


When In University...

by afteriwake



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes was a jerk the first time she met him. She had no idea how much he was going to grow on her as time went on...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt from the lovely [natattack93](http://natattack93.tumblr.com) on Tumblr in celebration of 50 followers there: “Sherlock and Amy met in university, and their friendship/relationship progresses from there.” I have other multipart stories that are part of my series, but I figured I’d try it as a standalone story. I have no clue how many parts this will be. I went with the most common speculation for Sherlock's mother's name, Violet, when it came time to introduce her. Also, chapters 10 and 14 are the only explicit chapters, if you want to skip reading that rating.

She was so glad to escape Leadworth. The town was stifling, and her reputation as the crazy girl was undeserved. Just because no one else believed her in regards to the Doctor didn’t mean he didn’t exist. But she was accepted to the Courtauld Institute of Art, part of the University of London, and she was glad for the acceptance. It was supposed to be one of the best art colleges in Britain. And right now she was late to her first class.

She wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing and she ran into someone. “Sorry,” she said, bending down to pick up her supplies, which had flown out of her grasp.

“You should be,” the male voice associated with the person said. She looked up and scowled at him. Tall, lanky with curly hair and the most striking eyes she’d ever seen. As he moved they went from green to blue.

“God, rude much?” she said.

“ _You_ ran into _me_. Therefore you should feel sorry.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you always such an elitist jerk?”

“I’ve been told so.”

“And you’re proud of this?”

“I don’t care what people think of me.”

“Lucky you,” she muttered.

He was quiet. “Do you want any help?” he asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” she replied. He picked up her sketchpad and acrylics. She stood up and took them from him. “Thanks, I suppose.”

“You’re welcome.” Then he looked at her. “What’s your name?”

“Amelia Pond, but everyone calls me Amy. I don’t have a free hand, so…can’t offer one.”

“No need.” He started to walk away.

“Oy!” she called after him. “What’s your name?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” he called behind him.

She stared at him as he walked away. People in London just seemed to be more jerkish than people in Leadworth. She was still getting used to this. She had thought about living in the dorms but an introduction to some of the other women there had put a damper on the idea. She was lucky in that her Aunt Sharon had paid for her to rent a flat instead of living on campus. She had just moved into her home the day before. She lived on Baker Street, on the right side of a deli that was there. There was another residence on the left side, 221 Baker Street, but she hadn’t gone over to introduce herself yet.

With a sigh she made her way to class. She was incredibly lucky: even with her encounter with that Sherlock jerk, she was only five minutes late, and her teacher wasn’t even there. She found an empty stool near an easel and sat down, opening her sketchbook on the easel and checking her supplies. Nothing broke in her fall, thankfully, so she was lucky.

Almost as soon as she was settled her teacher came in, and she concentrated on what he had to say. He mentioned they would have real models in the class, and she was going to introduce two of them today. Amy’s eyes widened as she recognized one of them. She prayed fervently that Sherlock Holmes was not going to be one of the nude models, but she was pretty sure her luck had run out. They weren’t even in class the entire time before the teacher sent them off with their first assignment. She gathered up her things and tried to wait out Sherlock, but he simply stood there near the door until she was the last student in class. With a sigh, she made her way to the door.

“I didn’t realize you were taking this particular class,” he said, falling in step with her.

“Yeah, well, you spent most of the conversation being a smartass,” she said with the fakest, most brilliant smile she could manage. “I had no clue you modeled for the class.”

“Only for the money,” he said with a slight shrug. “Every bit helps.”

“That’s true,” she admitted grudgingly.

“You don’t like me much,” he said.

“Being a conceited ass wasn’t the best first impression you could give. It just makes me think all Londoners are the same.”

“Well, I don’t come off as likeable to everyone,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a personality quirk. How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” she said.

“Didn’t take a year to travel?” he asked.

“Couldn’t afford it. I can barely afford the place I’m living, even with my aunt’s help.”

“Where is that?”

She didn’t even know why she was talking to him. She just wanted him to go away. “On Baker Street, next to a deli.”

He stopped. “221?”

She stopped as well, and looked at him. “No. I’m on the other side of the deli.”

“That would make you my neighbor,” he said.

She groaned slightly. There was going to be no escaping this man, she realized. “Lovely,” she muttered.

“There’s an open room where I live. You’ll find Mrs. Hudson to be a better landlady than Mrs. McDonald, and the rent is cheaper.”

“Yeah, but I’d be living with you,” she said. “That isn’t appealing.” She began to walk again and he followed. “Are you going to follow me to my next class?”

“No, but this is the way to the nearest exit,” he said. “I don’t normally offer advice, but you intrigue me. Consider the move. If you stay in your room most of the time you won’t even notice I’m there.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said with a sigh as they reached the exit. “Well, good-bye for now.”

“Good-bye, Amelia,” he said, heading to the left.

“Amy!” she called out after him, standing there for a moment. He gave no sign he acknowledged her. Then she headed towards the right to get to her next class. It wasn’t until she was almost there that her brain considered he might have possibly been flirting with her. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been flirted with before, but the whole exchange with Sherlock had been…different. She shook her head and then went to class. She’d think about it more later. Right now? She had class, and she needed to concentrate on that and not _him_.


	2. Chapter 2

She hated to admit it, but Sherlock had been right about one thing. Mrs. McDonald was a horrible landlady. She couldn’t put anything up on the walls, she had such a small amount of space in the refrigerator that she barely had any food, and the woman herself was a miserable shrew. She hated living there, but she had to put up with it at least through the month, since she didn’t have to money to pay for another place.

As her month wound down she found she’d gotten used to the jerk named Sherlock. Since he had taken an interest in her before and after the classes where he modeled she found he was elitist and smug but not too bad. She told him about her problems and he said he would talk to Mrs. Hudson about holding the room. The day before the month ended she went to 221 Baker Street and saw him approaching. “Oy! Sherlock!” she called over. “Can I see the room now?”

“I suppose so,” he said. She bounded up to the door and he opened it. He stepped in first and she followed. It looked much the same as where she was living structurally, but this place seemed homey and lived in. “Mrs. Hudson!” he called out. “The prospective tenant is here.”

A woman came down the stairs, a smile on her face. “Hello,” Mrs. Hudson said. She came all the way down the stairs and offered her hand to Amy. Amy shook it. “Sherlock hasn’t told me much about you, but he did tell me you live down the street with Mrs. McDonald. I can promise I’m a better landlady than she is.”

Amy grinned back. “There’s still a room for me, yeah?”

“Of course. I’ve held it for the last few weeks. Rented out the basement room so you could have the nicer one. Follow me?”

She went back up the stairs and Amy followed. Sherlock did not, instead going to what Amy guessed was the living room. She followed Mrs. Hudson and watched her open a door. “I have the biggest room, then Sherlock has the next biggest, but this one should be a nice sized room for you.”

Amy stepped in and looked around. It was almost the same size as the room she was in now, just a little bigger, and it had a nicer view out the window. “I like it,” she said with a smile.

“You can make it your own,” she said. “Well, aside from re-wallpapering. If you want to paint it I don’t mind, so long as you don’t get it on the carpet.”

“No, it’s fine as it is,” she said with a smile. “I’d like to hang up some paintings, though.”

“That’s fine,” she said with a nod. “Do you have your own bed?”

She nodded. “I have my own furniture.”

“I’ll have Sherlock and my other boarder help move it over. Offer them a slight discount on their rent for doing it,” Mrs. Hudson said with a warm smile. “Speaking of which, I do charge less than Mrs. McDonald, so you can afford this room. I know most university students don’t have a lot of money.” She named a figure that Amy found more than good and certainly affordable.

“Tell me, do you know Sherlock well?” Amy asked.

“Well enough,” she replied. “I’ve known him since he was a young boy. His brother stayed here while he went to university and now it’s his turn.”

“Is he always so…odd?” she asked.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “I don’t expect him to change much in that regard. But you’ll get used to him. He’s taken a liking to you, in some form, and that’s rather unusual for him.”

“How so?”

“In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him interested in anyone. He doesn’t have friends, he doesn’t have many attachments, not even his family. I may be the only person he feels any attachment for. You might very well be his first friend.” Mrs. Hudson put her hand on Amy’s shoulder and squeezed it. “He’s a good man, he’s just…complicated. You’ll get used to him soon enough.”

She left and Amy followed. She took her to the common room. “This is nice,” Amy said with a nod.

“My other tenant doesn’t come here very much, so this will be more for you and Sherlock to share. My other tenant will use the kitchen occasionally, but he has an icebox in his room for his own food. He’s a little strange.”

“Stranger than Sherlock?” Amy asked.

“Much,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Do you cook?”

“A bit, yes,” she said. “I know my way around a kitchen.”

“Everyone fends for themselves, but if you don’t mind sharing with Sherlock I’ll knock a bit off your rent. He can’t cook to save his soul, and I worry that he’ll spend all his money on take-out when he does eat, which isn’t often.”

“I can cook for him,” Amy said with a nod. “I usually cook more than I can eat at once, though I haven’t had much of a chance where I’m at now.”

“You can move in any time,” she said.

“How about tomorrow?” Amy replied.

“I’ll make sure Sherlock is over at the very least to help move.”

They chatted a few more minutes, then Amy went back to her home. She didn’t have much unpacked and she hadn’t tossed the boxes, so by that evening she was packed up. Telling Mrs. McDonald she was moving out went far better than expected, though Mrs. McDonald did seem perturbed that Mrs. Hudson had “poached another one,” in her words.

At ten the next morning Amy heard a knock on her door. She opened it and saw Sherlock there. “Please tell me your furniture is not heavy.”

She scowled slightly. “I’ll help you move it myself, if you’re so worried you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Mrs. Hudson told me to tell you that you could put your belongings in the living room while we moved the furniture. I’m supposed to help with that as well.”

“I don’t have much, and the only furniture I have is my vanity, dresser and bed. It’s all easy to move.” She went in her room, picked up the heaviest box and then handed it to him. Then she took the next heaviest box and picked it up. She wasn’t about to let him say she was a wimp. They carried the boxes over to 221 Baker Street, then went back for the rest. It only took a half hour to move her boxes and mattress. It took another hour to move over all the rest of the furniture. Sherlock didn’t offer to help reassemble the bed, so it took her a while to get it put back together. He did haul her mattresses up the stairs, however, so she was happy with that.

“Least I can do is cook for you,” Amy said when the boxes were in her room.

“You can cook?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. “I need to get my food from her icebox, but I have enough for curry. Would you like some?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. She grabbed an empty box and walked back to her old room, took her food, and then headed back to her new flat. She went into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator, and opened it up. There was a human brain in a jar on the top shelf. She looked at it for a long moment, then pushed it to the back of the shelf and put her food on the shelf. “Most girls would be disturbed to see a brain in the fridge.”

“And I am not most girls,” Amy said, making sure she had everything for curry.

“I’ve noticed,” he said. “If I’d thought you were most girls I’d have left you to suffer at Mrs. McDonald’s home.”

“Thanks, I suppose,” she said. She shut the door and went to the island in the center of the kitchen. She ignored him well enough as she cooked, except when he got in her way and she threatened him with a knife. He wisely left the kitchen and went into the common room, picking up a violin. She didn’t pay much attention until he started to play. She lowered her knife and just listened, absolutely mesmerized. He was very skilled, she had to admit.

When he was finished, he looked at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be cooking?” he asked.

“I was just listening,” she said gruffly, going back to the food.

“What did you think?” he asked.

“Honestly?” she said, not looking up from the food.

“I expect nothing less.”

“It was brilliant,” she said, looking up. “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she noticed he looked away from her as he said it. “Most people tell me to stop.”

“Well, why don’t you keep playing as I cook? It’s better to cook to good music than silence.”

“All right,” he said with a nod, putting the violin to his chin again and beginning to play. She didn’t stare this time, instead concentrating on the food, and soon enough dinner was ready. She found plates and forks, and served it up for them. He set his violin down and took a bite. “This is good,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, and she wanted to kick herself slightly because she was blushing. “It’s pretty easy to make.”

“I burn it every time I try.” He ate some more. “Mrs. Hudson told me you’d offered to share your food with me. I’m willing to pitch in for ingredients if it all turns out this good. If it doesn’t, you have to pay me back.”

She shook her head and took a bit, hiding a grin. “Sounds fair.”

“There are a few things I won’t eat, but generally I’ll try most things you make.”

“Give me a list and I’ll avoid making it for you,” she said.

“I think we’ll get along nicely,” he replied.

“I have a question for you,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Can I draw you? Outside of class? I’m not getting the hang of it like I thought I would. More practice wouldn’t hurt.” He appeared to think it over. “I’ll toss in a free meal every week if you do. You don’t have to put any money into it and you still get fed. I’ll even make whatever you want, within reason.”

“I could agree to that,” he said with a nod. “When do you want to start?”

“This meal is your free meal. I’ll draw you tonight. I’d like to draw you with your violin.”

“There’s no point in holding a violin and not playing it,” he said.

“You can play while I draw. Just don’t move too much.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. They finished their meal in silence, and then Amy went to her room and grabbed her charcoal sticks and regular sketchbook, and not the one she used in class. She went back to the common room and found him standing in front of the window, staring out at the street below. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just stand how you would normally stand,” she said. She curled up on the chair closest to him and did a quick sketch as he played. She worked on the detail a bit more for the next hour, and then sighed. It just didn’t look right.

“How did it turn out?” he asked.

She showed him. “I’m not happy with it.”

“You have the talent, but not the skill,” he said. “Keep practicing and it will come.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“May I keep this?” he asked.

She nodded. “Sure. I was just going to throw it out.”

He tore the picture out of her sketchbook. “Want to try again?”

“Sure, why not.” 

“I would say just concentrate on one thing, like my face,” he said. “It would be good practice to focus on one thing for a bit until you master it.”

“Thanks for the tip,” she said. She started sketching his face, and did a few smaller sketches around it. Then she did another page. Time passed quickly and she was so into drawing that she didn’t realize that he had stopped playing and come to look.

“I see improvement,” he said, and she jumped slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” she said.

“We can do this more tomorrow, but for now I need to go out.” 

“Oh, sure,” she said with a nod. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

“You’re welcome, Amelia.”

“Amy,” she said.

“I think Amelia sounds more like you. More elegant and…you.”

“Yeah, well, someone else said something like that long ago and then they just left me,” she said. “So I go by Amy now.”

“All right,” he said. “I’ll call you Amy, I suppose.” He put his violin away. “I think it’s a mistake, though.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my name,” she said. “Have fun with whatever it is you’re off to go do.”

“It’s not fun. A challenge, but not fun.”

“What _are_ you going to do, anyway?” she asked.

“Solve crime.”

She stared at him. “What, you’re with Scotland Yard part time or something while you’re in university?”

“I consult occasionally,” he said, going for his coat. “There’s a Detective Inspector Lestrade who allows me to consult for him. He wished to speak with me this evening.”

“Sounds fascinating,” she said.

He looked at her, studying her closely. “You’re not being facetious.”

She shook her head. “Well, it’s because I think it’s really cool,” she said with a shrug.

“Ah,” he replied. “Well…I will see you later then, Amelia. I mean, Amy.”

“See you later.” She watched him leave, then went back to sketching. This probably wasn’t as exciting as his evening, but it wasn’t bad to get more practice in. If he thought she had talent, she should probably prove him right.


	3. Chapter 3

She had been used to having a huge home to herself. Her Aunt Sharon had rarely been home as she was growing up; once she was able to be left home alone her aunt took more nights away from her. She never felt abandoned or anything like that, but she had gotten used to having her space and having a place to herself. It was very hard for her to get used to living with Sherlock.

The first night she lived there gunshots woke her up and she screamed, then flew down the stairs and straight into Sherlock, who was carrying a gun. She looked at him, then the gun, and then before she even thought about it her hand was balled up in a fist and she’d punched him in the face. He knew how to take a hit without getting hurt, and her knuckles were sore after glancing off his cheekbone. But there were no more gunshots at three in the morning again.

When he walked into the flat muddy from head to toe and smelling like a sewer, she slowly moved everything she wanted to stay clean from its proximity to him, then got up and nearly shoved him into the bathroom. She pushed hard enough that he stumbled, at any rate, and a large dollop of the muck landed on her beige jumper. It took three hours to air out the living room. As soon as he was out of the shower and dressed she’d punched him in the shoulder and told him he owed her a new jumper because in the half hour he’d been in the shower she hadn’t been able to get the stain or the stench out. She was still waiting for a replacement.

She had left a small radio in the common room one afternoon and when she came home she found he had taken it apart because it made a slight whine when it was on and the sound annoyed him. She stared at him for a few moments, then slapped him upside the head and told him if he didn’t put it back together exactly how it was supposed to be he’d starve that week. Two hours later it was all put back together but the whine was worse. She’d given up and used the money he gave her for food to buy a new one. She was nice, however, and didn’t make him starve.

It was like living with an annoying older brother, she realized. She had experience with annoying types and had found that smacking them repeatedly had usually had some desired effect. It didn’t seem to be that way with Sherlock. He never got annoyed with her hitting him. In fact, she thought he might be using it as some sort of practice or endurance test. Within a month things had settled enough, and she’d learned the rules that she would need to survive living with him. Rules like “never leave anything I don’t want touched in the living room” and “don’t cook with olives because he’s allergic, and how that’s even an allergy I don’t know” and “buy earplugs for the four AM violin concerto when he can’t sleep.”

She’d started to write down these rules, just for her own amusement. She shared them with Mrs. Hudson, who added a few of her own. It got to be a private joke between them, and the two women often found themselves saying “Rule three!” or “Rule fifteen!” at each other and having a bit of a laugh over it. Sherlock either ignored them or looked at them as though they’d lost their minds. She had to admit it made it easier to live there, having someone in on the joke.

One afternoon roughly a month after she’d moved in Amy was in the kitchen baking cookies while Sherlock was doing something in the living room. She’d had one batch done and cooling while the second batch cooked. She watched as Sherlock lifted his head up, then came into the kitchen. With an amused grin on her face, she waited until he reached over for one of the cookies. When he did she slapped his hand. “You enjoy hitting me,” he remarked.

“ _Ask_ for a cookie before you just take one,” she chided.

He scowled. “You used money I gave you to make them.”

“Nope. Mrs. Hudson gave me the money for these. She wanted chocolate chip cookies and I offered to make them. You may have one.”

He looked at her, then took a medium sized cookie. “What did you do with the money I gave you?”

“It’s in the refrigerator,” she said. “I figured a roast with potatoes and carrots and stuff would last us a couple of days.”

“Good choice,” he said with a nod. “But isn’t rule twenty-three that I don’t like carrots?”

She blinked. “No, that’s rule seventeen. And the carrots were for me, not you. How do you know what the rules are?”

“Mrs. Hudson told me. They’re your rules for being able to live with me.”

She shook her head. “Damn.”

“I have a list of rules for living with you so it works out.”

“Really,” she said, crossing her arms. “And what are some of the rules?”

“Rule number one: she hits, so always be prepared to be hit if she’s upset. Rule number two: she prefers Beethoven over Mozart, and Mozart over Bach, so if she seems upset, play Beethoven. It may keep you from being hit. Rule number three: never touch her shampoo or conditioner because she can tell and she’ll hit you. Rule four: she has oatmeal with maple syrup when she’s in a rush, so don’t touch the oatmeal even if she says you can have it because if she runs out she’ll hit you. Rule five: do not bother her while she’s watching the telly, even if the house is burning down, or she’ll hit you.”

“I do not hit you all the time,” she said with a frown.

“Often enough,” he said, taking a bite of the cookie. “You hit harder than Mycroft.”

“Who’s Mycroft?” she asked, taking a cookie for herself.

“My brother,” he replied. “He’s the government.”

“You mean he works for the government,” she said.

“No. I meant he _is_ the government. I’m surprised he hasn’t cornered you yet. A female that I paid enough attention to that I invited to move into the flat? He’ll get around to it eventually, I suppose.”

“And what will he want?”

“For you to spy on me.” He finished off his cookie and pointed to another. She nodded. He took one more. “If he offers you money I would take him up on it and then we can split it.”

“So you _want_ me to spy on you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It would be nice to have the extra money.”

“How about I keep all the money and you don’t pay me for food anymore?” she countered.

He thought about it. “That could work, I suppose, though you’ll be doing better than I would. You could always give me some to get better information for him.”

“Replace my jumper and reimburse me for the radio and we’ll see.” She finished her cookie and took another one. “You really think he’ll contact me?”

“I can almost guarantee it,” he said. “No one has stayed here for a month before. Three weeks, tops, and they were asked.”

“Yeah, I noticed the basement dweller moved out two weeks ago,” she said, taking a bite of her new cookie.

“So I think he’ll be asking you any time now.” He finished off the cookie. “May I have another one?”

“Just one,” she replied. “As soon as the cookies are done I’ll put the roast in.”

He took another cookie. “I have business to attend to with Lestrade today, so I may be back late.”

“I’ll make you a plate. Extra potatoes, no carrots.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” He went back into the living room, grabbed his coat, and then left. Amy went back to working in the kitchen, finishing the rest of the cookies and putting the roast in. She finished with that and turned around, and there was a man standing in the kitchen. She yelped slightly, and reached over for the knife she’d cut the vegetables with.

“I don’t mean you any harm,” the man said urbanely. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mycroft Holmes.”

She looked at him skeptically, not letting go of the knife. “Do you have proof?”

He nodded, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. She got closer and looked at it. It did say Mycroft Holmes, and as she looked at him closely she saw a slight resemblance to Sherlock. After a moment, she set the knife back on the island. “Wise choice,” he murmured.

“What do you want?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“I believe you are the first friend that my brother has made in his entire life,” he said with a slight smile. Then he glanced at the cookies. “May I?”

“One,” she replied.

He took a cookie. “I believe you could give me valuable information on how he is doing,” he said before taking a bite. “I…worry.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she said.

“Did you know he recently quit using drugs?” he asked.

Her eyes widened slightly. “I didn’t know that.”

Mycroft nodded. “Six months ago I forced him to go to rehab. He’s been out for four months. Mrs. Hudson had allowed me to stay with her when I was young. I found it to be a good experience, and felt he might benefit from being away from the environment he was in before. I take it you’ve noticed he has a brilliant mind.”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“It was what caught DI Lestrade’s attention. Of course, the drugs gave my brother certain…shall we say, quirks. It was hard to work with him. Without the stimulation he gets from the cases he gets given, he might self-destruct again. I would be willing to pay you for the occasional tidbit on how my brother is doing. I do not want him to sink back to those depths.”

“How much?” she asked.

He pulled an envelope from his suit pocket and handed it to her. She counted it, her eyes going wide again. It was a lot of money. She could afford to give Sherlock some and she’d still have a significant sum. She looked at Mycroft and nodded. “All right. I’ll spy on him for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head towards her. “I shall call you the next time I want to speak to you. Good day, Amelia.”

“Amy,” she called after him as he left the kitchen.

“As you wish, Amy.” And with that Mycroft left the living room.

She looked at the envelope, and then took it to her room. Sherlock had told her to talk to his brother about him, so it shouldn’t be that hard. She took most of the money out and put it with the rest of the money she needed to put into the bank, then went back down with the remainder in the envelope. She would give it to Sherlock when he got back.

Sherlock arrived home three hours later. She had already eaten and was enjoying a piece of fruit to tide over her hunger. She held up the envelope, which got his attention. He took it and opened it. “I thought you weren’t going to share until I got you a new jumper and reimbursed you for the radio.”

“Oh, there was enough left over to cover that,” she said. “He didn’t ask me for any information today. He did tell me something, though.”

Sherlock made a face. “Rehab, I presume?”

She nodded. “I never would have guessed. I mean, you don’t seem the type.”

“It can happen to anyone,” he said with a shrug. “Even the most brilliant people. Especially them, I think.” He put the envelope in his coat pocket. “I don’t care what you tell him about my life, so long as you tell him enough to satisfy his curiosity.”

“Okay,” she said. “Your plate’s in the oven.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“I think I’m going to go to my room now. Night, Sherlock.”

“Amy?” he asked as she got up.

“Yeah?” she asked, stopping.

“You didn’t need to share. Thank you for that.”

“Any time,” she said. She left the living room and went upstairs to her room. She laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. She had covered it in glow-n-the-dark stars, and right now in the twilight they were bright. She knew this was what Sherlock wanted, and the money certainly wasn’t going to hurt, but she still felt bad about doing it. Sighing, she shut her eyes and tried to sleep. But sleep was hard to come by that night as her brain whirred with the new information she’d gotten. One day she might ask for more details, but not today.


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft contacted her every week, usually on a Thursday. Sherlock had said she could tell him whatever she wanted to, but she stuck to the basics: that he was being fed well, that he had cases, that he was still doing the modeling at her school part time. He didn’t ask for specifics on what she and Sherlock would talk about often. But she saw Sherlock every day so she made notes in her head of how he was behaving, how he appeared.

It had been going on for a month and she had a decent amount of money in her savings now, even after sharing with Sherlock. She had thought if she told Mycroft things Sherlock would tell her less, but he seemed to share more. She learned more about his childhood, about what it was like to grow up with a brother and different things that made her appreciate him more.

And he learned about her. She told him about growing up in Leadworth, about her friends there, about all sorts of things. But she didn’t tell him about the Doctor. She had learned, years ago, not to talk about him. Her reputation in Leadworth as an odd little girl had never quite gone away with the adults there, though as she had gotten older and prettier the boys hadn’t seemed to mind. It would be just as well that she not clue Sherlock into it. She didn’t want him think she was crazy.  
His opinion mattered to her, she slowly started to realize. Not his opinion about her looks or the clothes she wore or anything superficial like that. But his opinion on her character, and her habits, and the things she didn’t share with the other people she went to school with. She didn’t know if her opinions mattered to him, and that was okay. He really was a friend, though he was a different type of friend than Rory or Mels.

She had just gotten done meeting with Mycroft and was walking into the living room. Mycroft had called while she was in the middle of shopping for the night’s dinner and she was in check-out, so he had walked part of the way home with her and slipped the envelope in one of the grocery bags. When she got home Sherlock was playing the violin. It was a rather sad piece, and she listened as she put away the groceries.

He finished shortly afterwards and looked at her in the kitchen. “That took a while longer,” he said.

“Your brother summoned me,” she said with a slight smile. “I told him I was grocery shopping and he met me in the check-out.” She pulled out the envelope from the bag and pulled out Sherlock’s share of the money. Sherlock came in and took it with a nod. “I’m surprised he doesn’t want more information.”

“He can tell a lot by what you say and how you act,” he said, pulling out his wallet and putting the money in it. “You tell him more by actions than by words.”

“And just what do I tell him?” she asked.

“You’re comfortable with me. You trust me. And you don’t think I’m doing anything harmful, or anything he needs to be worried about.”

“And that’s the truth,” she said with a nod. “About the only thing you do that he might object to is smoking.”

“Well, he can’t expect me to give up one set of vices and give up smoking as well,” he said with a shrug. “What are you preparing for dinner?”

“Steaks,” she said. “With a salad for me and mashed potatoes for you.”

“Not the dreadful boxed ones again, I hope,” he said.

She shook her head. “Homemade. I may have some too, I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to lose weight.”

“You look perfectly fine as you are,” he said.

She grinned at him for the compliment. “Well, it’s your time off from modeling for the class while we draw each other. I volunteered to model because I can use the extra credit in the class.”

“Still having a hard time with the bodies?” he asked.

She nodded. “And we start nude modeling in three weeks. I am vastly unprepared. Muscle tone is a pain in the arse. So much shading.”

“You could practice on me,” he said.

She grew slightly warm. She was already going to see him naked in class, and that had her nervous. At home as well would just be too much. “Thank you for the offer, but…”

“Have you seen a nude man before?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Stripped down to swimwear, but no, not nude.”

“And you’re nervous?”

She nodded slowly, not looking at him. “I _live_ with you, Sherlock. It’s not like the other models, who are going to go home and not be around me. It’s already going to be hard doing it for class.”

“Topless, then.” She looked at him. “You need to pass this class, correct?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It would be horrible to fail one of my art classes.”

“Then I’ll let you draw me with no shirt on. I mean, you are my friend, after all. Isn’t helping each other what friends do?”

She blinked slightly. She had considered them friends, but had never thought he would see them the same way. She nodded slowly. “I suppose so,” she said.

“After dinner, then,” he said.

“All right,” she said. He left her alone to prepare dinner, going back to his violin and giving her musical accompaniment. The songs were more upbeat than the one he had been playing when she came home. She made dinner as quickly as possible, and they ate in companionable silence. She wasn’t as nervous about this, because she’d seen many men without their shirts on. Well, boys more like it, but she’d seen it. They put the dishes in the sink and Amy went to her room to get her sketch pad and charcoal sticks.

When she came back into the living room Sherlock had his bare back to her. “Is there adequate lighting in here?” he asked as he turned around.

“I can move a few lamps,” she said. She set her supplies down, then moved two of the lamps closer to the window. “And even if it’s dark I’ll just shade for it.”

He waited, then looked at her as she settled into her favorite chair. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

She thought for a moment, then went up to him. “I’m going to pose you, all right?” she said.

“Fine,” he replied.

She pushed him down onto the arm of the chair, and then moved him so he’d be comfortable and more likely to stay in that position for a long time. She was flushing slightly as she did. Seeing a guy with no shirt on was one thing; touching him was quite another. His skin felt soft, and she could feel solid muscle when she moved his arm. She had to quite resist the urge to mess up his hair, and the urge surprised her. They were friends, nothing more.

Finally she got him where she wanted him, then went back to her seat. She did some quick sketches before going into more detail. Then she moved her vantage point and did another sketch. Sherlock stood as still as a statue no matter where she moved to or how close she got. After almost two hours she thought she had the hang of it. She went up to him and handed him her sketch pad. “What do you think?” she asked, standing next to him.

He went back to the very first page, where there were sketches of him with the violin. Then he went back to the pages she had just done. “Your technique is improving,” he noted. “You were a bit too liberal with the charcoal on this sketch, but that’s fixable. I look rather emaciated in the one next to it, though.”

“Which you’re not,” she said with a sigh. “I feed you well enough.”

She saw him grin slightly at that. “You do.” He flipped to the next page. “This larger one is quite superb, actually. I think it’s the best of the lot.”

“That’s the one when I was close,” she said.

“Perhaps your depth perception is off,” he replied. “Can you get closer to the models?”

“I can see about changing around with some other people,” she said with a nod. He turned to look at her, their faces inches apart, and her mouth went slightly dry. What on earth was _wrong_ with her. She moved away from him a bit. “Thanks, Sherlock,” she said. She moved another step away and stopped when he reached over and grabbed her wrist.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, perfectly fine,” she said, hoping she was hiding her weird reaction. She felt his hand move on her wrist slightly. She pulled her wrist out of his grasp and then went to her supplies. “Night.”

“Good night,” he said. But she didn’t turn back to look, she just ran up to her room. Oh dear God, she thought to herself No. No, this could not _possibly_ be happening. She could _not_ be developing a crush on Sherlock. He wasn’t her type! They were friends, yeah, but she liked solid, dependable guys. Everyone knew she was going to go back to Leadworth when university was over and she was going to marry someone like…like Rory. That was what was going to happen. And Sherlock, he probably wouldn’t even know what to do with a girl, he was so clueless about social things. She put her supplies on her desk and went to her bed, laying down. No, no _no_. She couldn’t afford to develop a crush, not now, not on him.

There was a knock on her door. “Go away,” she said.

“Amy, it’s about Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said. “I just got a call she’s been in an accident.”

She bolted upright in bed. She went to the door and saw Sherlock hadn’t even buttoned up his shirt. “What happened?”

“She got hit by a car. She put me down as a contact if anything happened. She’s at the Royal London Hospital.”

Amy went back and grabbed a jumper from her closet and her purse from her desk, pulling the jumper on as she followed Sherlock back down the stairs. By the time they got back to the living room he’d buttoned his shirt but not tucked it in. He grabbed his coat and threw it on as they went out the door. She was out first and hailing the first cab that came to sight. He gave the driver the address and they sat in silence as the cab got them there. He got out first while she paid, and then hurried to catch up with him.

It took about an hour, but they were then shown to a room. The doctor had told them both to wait outside for a moment while he checked to see if Mrs. Hudson wanted visitors. Sherlock had already talked to him about the injuries, and he relayed them to Amy: her left leg was broken in three places, her back and hip had been injured, and she’d sprained her left wrist when she broke her fall. No concussion, no serious injuries, and she was already on the mend. The doctor came out and said they could have a few minutes.

Amy went in first and gave her a hug, which she returned as best she could. “Sherlock said you were hit by a car and I got so worried,” she said when she pulled away. She stepped back and Sherlock went over and grasped Mrs. Hudson’s hand tightly.

“It will take more than a drunk driver to get rid of me,” she said with a smile directed to Amy and then to Sherlock. Amy saw a small smile cross Sherlock’s face in response. “I’m afraid I won’t be coming home for a bit. There’s no way I can navigate the stairs in the wheelchair they’ve told me I’ll need for the next few weeks. I’ll be here until I can just get around on crutches.”

“We’ll take care of the flat,” Sherlock promised.

“And I’ll even bring you food. I can just imagine the hospital’s food is ghastly,” Amy said.

“I would love some more cookies,” she said, wincing slightly. “Any type, as long as they have chocolate in them.”

“I’ll experiment, then,” Amy replied with a smile.

“I’m very tired suddenly,” Mrs. Hudson said, her eyes fluttering slightly.

“We’ll leave you to get some rest,” Sherlock said. He squeezed her hand one more time and let go. Amy gave a wave and then they left. They’d made it outside and a slight distance away when Amy stopped. Sherlock nearly crashed into her, and when they were righted he looked at her strangely. “What is it?”

“Do you have your cigarettes on you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“I think I need one.”

He looked at her, then pulled out his pack and got two cigarettes out. He handed her his lighter and she lit hers, then handed it back so he could light his. They stood on the sidewalk, smoking their cigarettes. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said.

“I started when I was sixteen, sneaking them from my aunt. Kept it up for about a year, then I got bored with it,” Amy said with a shrug. “Hadn’t had one in a long time, but when I get nervous I start craving one.”

“You heard her. She’ll be fine,” he said after he exhaled some smoke.

“Yeah, but she could have died.”

“But she didn’t.”

“But she _could_ have,” she said, more insistently this time. “I haven’t known her long but I love her dearly. If anything had happened I don’t know what I’d do.” She shut her eyes. “I worry about you too, when you go off on cases. I worry someone else will have a gun and you won’t.”

She opened her eyes and saw he had a surprised look on his face. “You actually worry about me?”

“Yeah. You’re my friend, and there’s always that worst case scenario running in my head when you go out and do something. I mean, do you even carry a gun?”

“Yes,” he said. “You heard me shoot bullets from it your first night I the flat. I always make sure it’s loaded when I go out.” He inhaled for a moment. “There’s another one in the flat, in case it’s needed.”

“Would you teach me to shoot it?” she asked before inhaling.

“I suppose I could,” he said with a nod after he’d exhaled.

“Thanks,” she said. They smoked the rest of their cigarettes in silence, and then Sherlock hailed them a cab and they got in. He turned to look at her after a moment. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ve had anyone worried for my well-being in a long time,” he said quietly. “It’s almost…touching.”

“I bet you worry about me,” she said.

“No, I don’t. Because I know if something were to happen you’d survive. You’re a fighter.”

She grinned at him slightly. “Well, maybe you should. That’s one things friends do. Worry that their friends are safe when they’re not with them.”

“Perhaps I will,” he said.

Hesitantly she reached over and held onto his hand. Suddenly this crush she might have on him didn’t matter as much. As Sherlock grasped it tightly she realized that he was a good friend, and if he ever became anything more…well, that was something to worry about later. Tonight she just wanted someone to hold her hand for a bit.


	5. Chapter 5

It was strange being in the flat without Mrs. Hudson there. Amy realized she brought a warmth to the home, and she was surprised at how much she missed it. Even if she’d go a few days without seeing her, just knowing she was in the home was enough.

Home. 221 Baker Street really was home, she realized. It was much more of a home than Leadworth and an empty house with her aunt. She had a while here yet, since she had university to finish, but she’d started to wonder if she really wanted to go back to Leadworth, back to a life where she’d end up with someone like Rory. Especially since she finally admitted to herself she’d much rather have Sherlock, though she greatly doubted he had feelings like that towards her.

It made interactions with him strange, and a tenseness crept up. She’d still cook dinner for both of them, make small talk, and on the surface everything was fine. But she didn’t spend much time around him other than that. She managed to get enough information to satisfy Mycroft through the small talk, and she was sure that neither Holmes brother had noticed.

It was with great dismay she was proven wrong.

Mrs. Hudson had been in the hospital for two weeks, and Amy had filled up her time cooking, baking, cleaning and sketching people at the park. On the sixteenth day of Mrs. Hudson’s hospitalization, Sherlock knocked on her door at ten in the morning. She had planned to sleep in until noon since it was Saturday and she didn’t have class, so she was a bit perturbed when she opened the door, still clad in her pajamas. “What?” she said tersely.

“I thought we could have a talk,” he replied.

“About what?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“About why you’ve been having just the minimal amount of contact with me,” he said, imitating her stance and posture.

She froze. She had hoped he hadn’t noticed, but this was Sherlock. He noticed everything. She should have seen this coming. “I’m not avoiding you,” she said.

“No, but you’re not making the effort to be as friendly as you were before Mrs. Hudson’s accident.”

“I’m stressed about school, all right?” she said with a sigh. She took a step back and began to shut the door. “I want to get some more sleep before I start cleaning the kitchen, so…bye.”

He put a hand on the door and pushed it back open. “I have a theory as to why you’re avoiding me.”

“Yeah? What is that?” she asked, giving up on trying to shut the door.

“You’ve realized you’re attracted to me,” he said quietly.

Her eyes widened. Damn him, he figured it out, she thought to herself. “Me? Attracted to you? Yeah, right. We’re just friends.” She tried to shut the door again. No luck…he was as solid as a tree and he was bound and determined to not have the door shut in his face.

“I will admit I don’t see why anyone in their right mind would be attracted to me. As I’ve been told before, I’m an elitist snob and I function like a robot. I am not anyone’s idea of a good catch. And while I’ve been told I look striking I don’t believe I would be considered attractive.”

She stared at him. Was that really how he thought of himself? He thought he was an ugly robot? “You aren’t any of those things, Sherlock,” she said quietly. “Well, you might be a snob, but I can look past that.”

“So…are you attracted to me?” he asked quietly. She looked in his eyes, his damn beautiful eyes, and saw something she’d never seen in them before: uncertainty.

“If I am, what difference will it make? You aren’t attracted to me.”

“I never said that,” he replied.

She blinked. “What?”

“I said I’ve never said I wasn’t attracted to you,” he replied.

“I heard that, you moron. I just…why?” She took a step closer.

“I’ll tell you if you confirm my theory,” he said.

“I do like you in a more than friendly way,” she said, looking down. She couldn’t look at him as she told him, coward that she was. There was a pause, and then she felt the knuckle of his index finger under her chin, lifting her head up until she was looking at him. She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to look him in the eye as he dashed her feelings to bits. But she did.

“You are intriguing,” he said softly. “Even though I made a rather rubbish first impression you still put up with me. Those rules you made to cope with me, you haven’t used them so much lately, and I haven’t had to use mine. I’ve told you things no one else knows because I trust you, and I know you won’t betray that trust, not even to Mycroft, and he pays you to spy on me. You know what to keep to yourself, to keep me from getting hurt.”

“Is that all?” she said her voice barely above a whisper.

“No. I care about you. Everyone else believes I care about no one other than myself, but that isn’t true. I did what you did, fought the whole thing because it didn’t make sense, but these last few weeks I came to realize I missed you.” He moved his hand away. “And I swear if you repeat any of this to anyone else, Mycroft included, I’ll persuade Mrs. Hudson to terminate your lease.”

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. And the smile was followed by a bit of laughter. He looked hurt as the laughter bubbled up, but she clamped a lid on it and leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “It will stay our secret, I promise.”

It was his turn to look down. “So what do we do now?” he asked.

“We start by not avoiding each other, and maybe go on a date.”

“I’ve never been on a date before,” he admitted.

“I guessed that.” She reached over and took his hand in hers, linking her fingers through his. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

“No,” he said, looking at her and tightening his hold on her hand slightly. “I am hungry, though.”

“Let me change and we’ll go out to eat. My treat. This can be our first date.”

“All right,” he replied. He let go of her hand and she stepped away, shutting the door. She changed quickly, taking some care with her appearance as she applied her make-up, then went to the living room. He was there, playing his violin, and she waited until he noticed her. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Yes.” 

He came over to her and then they left the flat, locking it behind them. It was a brisk morning, and they walked side by side for a few blocks until they got to a bakery and she headed towards the door. He followed, and soon they were in the warm room. She ordered a croissant and a mocha, and he ordered a pastry and a black coffee. Then they went to one of the tables and sat down. “What exactly happens on a date?” he asked.

“Well, when it’s a meal, you eat and talk about things,” she replied. “Some dates mean going and doing things, like going to a museum or to a movie. It really varies depending on what activity you’re doing, I think. Like, if you go to a movie you don’t talk through the movie because it’s rude.”

“I think I might be a dreadful date,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said with a smile before taking a bite of her food. “Your brother’s going to be surprised when he finds out we’re going out on dates.”

“I suppose you’ll tell him?” Sherlock asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t think we’ll be able to hide it long, but if you don’t want me to tell him I won’t. I’m sure I can pretend everything’s stayed the same, at least for a little while.”

“I would prefer if you wait. I don’t want him to ruin things.”

Amelia scoffed. “He can’t ruin things any more than I did. I won’t let him.”

A smile crossed Sherlock’s face, a genuine, honest to God smile, much brighter and fuller than the ghosts of smiles she’d seen on his face before. It pleased her to know she put it on his face. She was going to try hard to do it more often.

They ate their food and talked more, the type of talking they had done before Mrs. Hudson’s accident, and ended up getting some more food before they left because they got so wrapped up in the conversation. Then Amy suggested they go somewhere else, and they landed at the Barbican Centre to just look around. Amy had heard music at one point from Barbican Hall and they had snuck in to listen to the orchestra practice, and managed to get to stay there for a half hour before they were found out and told to leave.

Amy was laughing slightly as they left, her hand in Sherlock’s. “That was kind of fun, breaking the rules,” she said with a smile.

“It’s an exquisite orchestra,” he replied, tightening his hold on her hand. “It might be nice to actually sit through an entire performance one evening.”

“We’d probably have to dress up all fancy and stuff,” she said, swinging their joined hands slightly. “I don’t think I have anything, but I could probably afford something decent with the extra money I have.”

“I think that would be a good date, if you don’t think you’d get bored,” he said towards her.

“I wouldn’t get bored,” she replied with a smile, moving over and kissing his cheek slightly. “Why don’t we find out when they’re actually performing and how much tickets are and things like that?”

“All right,” he said with a nod. They went and found out, then walked around for a little while longer. It was nearly two in the afternoon when they returned to 221B Baker St. Amy had picked up some food for lunch and dinner along the way, and she went to the kitchen and began preparing sandwiches for them. He stood near the kitchen and watched, and when she was done they took their sandwiches and crisps to the table and had lunch. “We didn’t have a boring date?” he asked when he was halfway done.

“No, not at all,” she said with a grin after swallowing a mouthful of food. “If you feel up to it later tonight, maybe we could go see a movie or something.”

“Perhaps,” he replied with a nod. “As long as it isn’t one of those romantic movies girls seem to love I can tolerate a movie.”

“It’s a good thing I love action films then,” she said with a grin before taking another bite of her sandwich. She chewed for a moment, then swallowed. “If you want we could just stay in. Watch a DVD on the telly or something.”

“That might be nice,” he said after a moment’s thought.

“Then why don’t we do that?” she asked. “It will save us some money and stuff. And I have a few good movies.”

“All right,” he said with a nod. They finished their lunch and Amy went to her room to get a few movies. She avoided the chick flicks and pulled out some fantasy and some action movies and brought them back to the common room. She showed them to Sherlock and he looked at each case before making a decision. “These two.”

“Good choices,” she said with a grin. She put the first one in the DVD player and then settled into the sofa, patting the space next to her. Sherlock sat down and she leaned against him. After a moment he put an arm around her shoulders and she got closer to him. About a third of the way through the movie they were both relaxed and enjoying the film, and she had to admit she enjoyed Sherlock’s remarks and commentary throughout it, about how the guns wouldn’t fire quite right the way they were being held and things like that. They finished the first movie and she put in the second and they settled in again. This movie was a fantasy movie, and Sherlock stayed largely quiet through it.

About halfway through the movie she shifted slightly and turned to look at him, and after a moment he pulled his attention away from the movie towards her. She grinned at him, and he gave her a small smile back, and reached over to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face back. She licked her lips slightly and moved again, leaning in and kissing him on the lips. It only took a moment for him to respond in kind, and then the movie was largely forgotten as they became more involved in the kissing.

The movie was nearly over when she pulled away to take a few deep breaths, her face flushed and her ears warm. The look on Sherlock’s face made her grin, as it appeared that he was content and almost sated. “I need to start dinner,” she said, surprised that her voice sounded almost husky.

“Perhaps dinner can wait,” he replied, touching her face again.

“If you’re sure,” she said, leaning in again. It was nearly two hours later when the growling of her stomach got too loud to ignore and she regretfully pulled away again. “Okay, now I have to eat.”

“I’m rather hungry as well,” he said as she got off the sofa, reaching for the remote to the television and turning it off. Amy went to the kitchen and began preparing the dinner, and this time Sherlock stayed close. She concentrated on dinner but stole a kiss here and there when she could, and after she put the food in the oven she pulled him close and kissed him in the kitchen. It was only when the timer went off that they pulled apart. They ate slowly, sitting close to each other, and when they were done they put the leftovers away and cleaned up, and only when the yawn escaped her mouth did she realize she was actually tired. “I think it’s time for me to go to sleep,” she said.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” he replied. She raised an eyebrow. “Supposedly a date should end when one person is escorted to their door. At least that was what my father said when he talked to me about the particulars of manners on a date.”

She chuckled. “You don’t have to do that.” She leaned over and kissed him softly, a lingering kiss. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, Amelia,” he said as she pulled away completely and went to her room. She changed into her nightclothes and went to her bed, pulling back the covers and then climbing in and snuggling beneath them. She hadn’t been this happy in a long time, she realized as she began to drift off to sleep. She had Sherlock, and she had a life in London, and while school wasn’t going exactly how she’d wanted it to go she could work on it. She was quite happy, but in the back of her mind she was wondering just what could go wrong. She stowed it in the far reaches of her mind as sleep overtook her, and she hoped those thoughts stayed there.


	6. Chapter 6

The next two weeks passed well. They were still on their own, and they managed to spend as much time together as they could. She’d had boyfriends before, back in Leadworth, but it had been different. It had been something that didn’t mean as much, even with Rory, and he was her oldest friend. Whatever it was that she had with Sherlock was unique. It was like the boys back home had considered her a girl and they did things a girl would like, whereas Sherlock considered her to be a grown woman and treated her as such. It was the first time she’d had an older boyfriend, so maybe this was how it was supposed to be. She wasn’t sure, she just knew she liked this dynamic.

Mycroft hadn’t caught on, and she was glad for that. She didn’t think his brother would try and ruin things; on the contrary, she thought he might be happy with the news. But Sherlock wanted it to be kept quiet and she did that. Mycroft contacted her the same way he had before, she gave him the information he wanted, and he paid her. It was hard the first time, especially because up until thirty minutes prior she’d spent some time kissing Sherlock and she swore her lips were swollen, but she managed just fine.

It was Monday now, and the first day her class would be doing nude modeling. She had hoped that Sherlock would not be the first model they had to draw, and so far her luck was holding out. It was another young man named Michael. She set up her pad and got her supplies out and waited. Her teacher was running late, and she just wanted to hurry up and get the day over with.

It was five minutes after class was supposed to start that her cell phone went off. It was on vibrate, and it buzzed in her pocket. She’d switched places with another student to see better and as her teacher walked in she hoped he didn’t see her on the phone. It was a short text message from Sherlock. She opened it and gasped as she read the words: _Got shot. At same hospital as Mrs. Hudson. Don’t worry._

“Amy?” her teacher asked. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” she said, stowing her phone. She gave her teacher a smile and got one in return, but she could feel herself start to shake. He got _shot_ and he sent her a text about it? And a text that said not to worry, at that? Of _course_ she was going to worry. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, and when she opened them again Michael was beginning to disrobe. All at once she didn’t care that there was a naked man in front of her that she was supposed to draw. She wanted to get it over and done with and go see how Sherlock was doing with her own two eyes.

Class breezed by, and she found that while she still worried she could concentrate well enough. The picture looked decent, and she knew that was all that mattered. As soon as class was over she stowed her supplies, closed her sketchpad and bolted out the door. She could afford to skip her next class, and so she went and hailed a cab and had it take her to the hospital. She ran in as soon as she got out and paid, her breath coming in gasps as she tried to calm down. “I need to see Sherlock Holmes,” she said.

“Family?” the nurse asked.

“I’m his cousin,” she lied. The nurse raised an eyebrow but Amy just stared at her, and with a sigh she told her which room to go to. She felt her nerves bunch up as she got on the elevator and went to his floor, and her heart was thudding in her throat by the time she got to his room. She opened the door and saw him in a bed, sleeping. She went over to him and stood by his side. “Sherlock,” she said quietly.

“It’s just a shoulder wound,” he murmured, not even opening his eyes. “I’ll live.”

“You idiot,” she said quietly. “You scared the bloody hell out of me! I thought it was worse.”

“I told you not to worry,” he said, finally opening his eyes. “The fact that I could text you probably should have told you it wasn’t serious.”

“I almost wish you hadn’t told me at all,” she said, glaring. He had a point; if he could text her she shouldn’t have been overly concerned. But he was her boyfriend and her friend and she was going to worry whether he liked it or not. “Remember that conversation we had about how friends worry? Girlfriends worry _more_.”

He glanced at her. “So this means you consider me your boyfriend?” he asked quietly.

“Well of course,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We jumped right into exclusivity, and that’s what boyfriends and girlfriends are. You won’t let me tell anyone, or else I’d have referred to you as my boyfriend earlier.”

He reached over for her hand that was on the bed and grasped it. “Then I’m sorry I made you worry, Amy.”

Her glare softened and she squeezed his hand. “It’s all right, Sherlock. What happened, anyway?”

“A surprise during a confrontation. I wasn’t able to get my gun out in time, but I managed to stop him from shooting again.”

“Is the person who shot you still alive?” she asked quietly. Sherlock shook his head. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. But I didn’t kill him; I shot him in the leg. Lestrade shot him in the chest.” He moved his hand and linked his fingers through hers. “I’ve killed a man before, Amy, in self-defense. Killing someone if it means keeping me alive…I can do that. I’m sorry if that changes your opinion of me.”

“I should have realized that, with the whole consulting for Scotland Yard thing,” she said. “And it doesn’t change my opinion, not really. I know I could probably do the same thing.”

“It does haunt me, sometimes,” he replied. “This will probably haunt me as well.”

“If you want to talk, I’ll be there for you,” she said. “How long do you need to be here?”

“Overnight,” he replied. “Though if I wanted to check myself out early I could.”

“No, don’t,” she said. “I can handle a night alone at home.”

“You could always stay here for a while,” he said. 

“I could,” she said with a smile. “Do you mind if I get something to eat first? I rushed here from class and all I had for breakfast was yoghurt.” 

“You can have the food they brought for me,” he said, letting go of her hand and pointing to the table next to his bed.

She looked at it. “Thank you, but no,” she said as she made a face. “I’m sure I can get something better nearby. I’ll be back soon.” She leaned in and kissed him softly, then went out of the room. She found a deli within walking distance, picked up a sandwich and soda for her and a sandwich for Sherlock, and got back to his room within a half hour. There was a visitor in the room when she got there, and she knocked on the door. “I’m back,” she said.

“Lestrade, this is my girlfriend, Amy Pond,” Sherlock said from the bed. Amy was pleased to be introduced as such and smiled at the older looking gentleman. His hair was dark with touches of gray, and while he didn’t look that much older than the two of them there were dark circles under his eyes and he looked worn out.

Lestrade reached out his hand to her and she shifted her purchase to shake it. “Pleasure,” he said.

“Likewise,” Amy replied.

“Please tell me there is food for me,” Sherlock said.

“Roast beef,” she said, holding up the bag. Sherlock grinned slightly. “If you want I can leave you two alone.”

“It’s all right,” Lestrade said. “I was just checking up on him. He seems to be doing well enough, and with you here I doubt he’ll need my attention.” He looked at Sherlock. “So you’re sure he’s the one?”

Sherlock nodded. “The murder weapon was personal so it should still be on his person, and you can easily have someone match the indent on his ring. I doubt he will have cleaned it thoroughly, so there should still be blood on it.”

“All right then,” Lestrade said with a nod. “Take care, then. I’m sure you’ll be in good hands.” He turned back to Amy and gave her a grin. “Nice meeting you, Amy.”

“You too,” she said. Lestrade left the room and she went over to his side. “So the man who shot you wasn’t the killer?”

Sherlock shook his head, eyeing the sandwich. “He was an accomplice, however.”

“Ah,” she said before handing him his sandwich. He opened the package and looked at it. “I got it exactly how you order it from the deli so it should be fine.”

“I’m surprised you remember my order,” he said before taking a bite.

“We’ve had lunch there loads of times the last two weeks and you order the same thing every time. I could probably make it just as well at home.” She pulled a chair up to his bedside and got her own food out. “Who knows? I might make it better.”

“Perhaps,” he said after he swallowed. “Thank you for this, Amy.”

“No problem.” She took a bite of her own sandwich. “Have any idea when you’ll get out of here tomorrow? I can come by.”

“No clue,” he replied. “And you’ve already blown off a day of school over me. I don’t want to ask you to miss more. I’ll make sure I’m home when you return from class.”

“Fine.”

“Did you miss the nude modeling?”

She shook her head. “No, sadly. It’s not bad, but I got through it today because I wanted to hurry up and get here and find out how you were. I’ll probably have a full blown attack of the nerves tomorrow.” She looked at him. “You’re not going to be able to model, are you?”

“I should have the bandage off and stitches out in two weeks, which is when I was supposed to model,” he replied. “And if I can’t…with the money Mycroft’s been giving you I can afford to miss a week.”

“Well, that’s good,” she said, though she turned slightly red. She hoped he didn’t notice.

But as was her luck he did. “Why are you turning red?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be modeling after all,” she said quietly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my boyfriend and I don’t want the first time I see you naked to be in class,” she said, mumbling the last bit.

He looked at her as if he was thinking carefully about what she said, and then it seemed to come to him in a flash. “Ah.”

She looked at him, surprised. “Ah?”

“You would much rather not have everyone in your class see me naked as well,” he said.

“That’s part of it,” she said with a sigh.

“What’s the other part?” he asked, slightly confused.

She felt herself grow warmer. “I thought I was okay with seeing you naked in class. I’m not. I think if I’m going to see you naked it would be in a bedroom and we’d be…doing stuff.”

“Sex.”

She had to be the color of a tomato now. “Yes,” she said.

“And I’m assuming by the way you’re bright red that you’re not ready for that yet.”

“Yes,” she replied.

“All right. I’ll inform your professor of my injury and tell him I can’t model right now.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I won’t model for the class,” he said, shrugging slightly. “If it makes you that uncomfortable I can do that for you.”

“But what about the money? I know you get paid twice as much for nude modeling as you do for regular modeling.”

“I’ll survive,” he replied.

She looked at him, then set her sandwich down on the table, and then took his sandwich and set it next to hers. “Thank you, Sherlock,” she said before leaning in and kissing him. He used his good hand to touch her face as he kissed her back. They would have continued if there hadn’t been a cleared throat at the door. Amy pulled back quickly and saw the nurse that had told her where Sherlock was standing there.

“Cousins?” she asked.

“Three times removed,” Sherlock said, and Amy had to bite back a chuckle.

“Only family is supposed to be up here. You’ll have to leave,” the nurse said.

“On the contrary,” a voice said from behind the nurse. Amy recognized it as Mycroft’s. “I am Mr. Holmes’s brother, and I would prefer if Miss Pond stay here for now.”

The nurse looked to Mycroft and then back at Sherlock and Amy, and sighed. “Fine. But when visiting hours are over, she leaves.”

“I will. Promise,” Amy said. The nurse left and Mycroft came into the room. “Thanks, Mycroft.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said. He turned to Sherlock. “A bit more than a flesh wound this time, Sherlock.”

“I know,” he said sourly. Amy glanced at him and then reached over for his hand. He gripped it tightly. “I’m alive and on the mend, as you can see.”

“I knew as much already,” Mycroft said, leaning on his umbrella slightly. “Still, it doesn’t hurt to see for oneself.” He looked at their hands and then at Amy. “I suppose I should offer my advice on your relationship with my brother.”

“Mycroft—“ Sherlock said warningly, but Mycroft held up a hand and Sherlock was silent.

“Treat him well,” Mycroft said to her. “I do not care to see him hurt.”

“I won’t hurt him,” she said.

“I’ll still come round to collect on our agreement, but I don’t want to know the intimate details of your relationship,” he said. “As long as he remains cared for, all will be fine.” He turned back to his brother. “I have a case for you when you get discharged. Meet me at my office tomorrow. It is of an…unusual…variety.”

“Fine,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“Then I bid you a good evening, the both of you. You have about five hours before you need to head home, Amy.”

“Okay,” she said. Mycroft left the room and she looked at Sherlock. “Why do I get the feeling he knew we were dating before he saw us kissing?”

“Because he probably did,” Sherlock said with a scowl. Then the scowl dropped. “At least he isn’t trying to end things. I think he might genuinely like you.”

“That’s good,” she said. “It makes things easier.”

“Yes.” He let go of her hand and touched her face. “I was wondering if we might get back to what we were doing before we were interrupted.”

“I can do that,” she said with a grin before leaning in and kissing him again. For now, at least, everything was fine, and she was thankful for it.


	7. Chapter 7

She finished out the week with Michael as the model and found it got easier. She was still glad Sherlock wasn’t going to model, but she felt bad. She slipped him some extra money from Mycroft to help make up for it, but all he did was insist on paying for their two dates that week which spent all the extra money. She was going to try again the next week but she had the sinking suspicion he was going to do the same thing.

She had to admit that her art was getting better, and the fact that she could draw a nude man was good. She still had two more weeks of nude modeling left and she wanted to do her best. She’d checked with her teacher and found her grades were good so she wasn’t too worried, but it didn’t hurt to put the effort in. And she was able to use the extra time with her teacher to get pointers, so that class was going well.

It was Saturday now, and she was in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of them while he was working on a case for Lestrade. She was making French toast, and humming to herself as she puttered around the kitchen. She was almost done with the first batch when there was a knock on the door. She looked over at Sherlock, who seemed to be ignoring it, so with a sigh she turned off the heat under her pan and made her way to the door.

There was a man there with a letter. He wasn’t wearing a uniform of any sort, said that the letter was supposed to go to Sherlock and it was important he get it right now. Amy nodded, then took the letter to Sherlock. “It’s for you,” she said, holding the envelope in front of his face.

He looked at her, then took the envelope and opened it. After reading it he took the file off his lap and got up and went to get his coat. “I won’t be eating breakfast right now, I’m afraid. Something has come up for the case.”

“Well, I’d only made enough for one person,” she said. “You go do what you need to do.”

“Sorry about the change in plans,” he said. He came over to her and gave her a quick kiss and then he left and went out the door. She went back to the stove and finished the French toast, then put it on a plate and took it to the table. She was okay with their plans changing; she spent an awful lot of time with him and it was nice having the place to herself for a bit.

She was hallway through her meal when her cell phone rang. She checked the ID and saw it was her aunt. She answered it. “Hello, Aunt Sharon.”

“Amy, something has happened.”

Amy froze. It had been months since she left and her aunt had rarely called. She’d sent the money for Amy’s rent and there may have been a letter with a few of them, but mostly Amy had been left on her own. “What happened?” she asked.

“I went to the doctor for a physical, and they found some…abnormalities. I have breast cancer.”

“Oh my God.” This was very unexpected news. “Do you want me to come home?”

“Yes, but only for a short time. They caught it very early. They’re hoping they can get it out with surgery, and I just need you here for a few weeks.”

“Are they going to do any more treatments?” she asked.

“Radiation and chemotherapy,” she replied.

“I should be there for that. I should help take care of you. I can leave university. I can come home.”

“Amelia, no. I won’t be in Leadworth for treatment. I’ll be coming to London. I’ve decided it’s time for a change anyway. This house is too large for just me, and I expect when you’re done with university you’ll decide to stay in London yourself. I just need you to come home and help me get ready for the move. Other neighbors are pitching in. Rory’s offered to do a lot in between his classes.”

“All right. When do you want me to come home?” she asked.

“As soon as you can. I know you’ll need to talk to your professors first, and hopefully you won’t miss more than two weeks of school. But they want to do the surgery soon, and I’d rather be moved and settled into a new place before then.”

“I can try and come home Wednesday,” she replied. “I’ll leave Wednesday morning.”

“All right. Let me know when you’ll get here and I’ll pick you up. I love you, Amy.”

“Love you too,” she replied before hanging up. Her mind was reeling at the news. Her aunt had cancer? She was one of the healthiest people Amy knew. She stared at her phone. Sherlock had left on something urgent, and she didn’t want to disturb him. She could call Rory, she supposed, but she hadn’t talked to him much since she’d left. She wanted to talk to someone, though. She looked through her contacts and saw the number Mrs. Hudson had given her. She hoped she was available.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?” Mrs. Hudson said.

“It’s Amy,” she replied.

“Hello, dear. How is everything?”

“Not well,” she said.

“What’s wrong?”

“My aunt has cancer,” she said quietly.

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.”

“She wants me to go back to Leadworth and help her pack up the house. She’s moving to London and I’m so…I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, too. She’s the only family I have left. I don’t want to lose her.”

“All you can do is support her how she needs you to,” Mrs. Hudson said comfortingly. “She knows what she needs. You just have to make sure you can give it to her. Did they catch it early?”

“Yes.”

“Then I fully believe things will be fine.” She paused. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“She said two weeks. Other people are offering to help, so I don’t need to be around for everything. She just wants my help.”

“That’s good. I had hoped that she didn’t want you back for too long. I would worry that you might not come back. I know what it’s like to go home for a family emergency and then not want to leave.”

“I wouldn’t have a choice. She’s moving to London.”

“There is that. Do you think Sherlock will be fine with you gone so long?”

“I can cook today and tomorrow to leave him with meals for at least the first week. But if he’s got cases he may be so busy with them he won’t really notice.”

Mrs. Hudson chuckled. “There is that. Does he know yet?”

“No. He just got a letter and took off for a case. I’ll tell him when he gets home.”

“All right. Don’t worry, dear. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

“That would be nice. Good-bye for now.”

“Bye.” Amy hung up and looked at the rest of her food. She didn’t have much of an appetite right now, so she took it to the trash and dumped it. She cleaned up her dishes and put them to dry, then went to the market and bought enough food to make some meals to feed Sherlock for at least a week. She got home and began to cook, and the more she cooked the calmer she felt. When Sherlock arrived home five hours after he had left she’d already gotten her appetite back and was eating a sandwich. “I have to leave for a few weeks,” she said as he took off his coat. “My aunt’s sick.”

“Ah,” he replied. He went into the kitchen. “Why is there so much food?”

“I’m making food to last you a week so you don’t starve,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said. He turned to look at her and came back out of the kitchen. “Are you all right?”

“I’m better. I’m scared, because she’s all the family I have left. And I’m sad, because she’s selling my home to move here to London.” She sighed and hung her head. “It’s a lot to deal with.”

“Would you like it if I came with you?” he asked.

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“I was wondering if you’d like me to come with you when you go home. You have told your aunt about me, correct?”

“Yeah. I mean, she knows about you, and I told her we were dating about two weeks ago.” She looked at him closely. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I’d like the chance to meet your aunt, and maybe to get to know you a little better. See where you’re from before you no longer have a reason to go back.”

“All right,” she said with a smile. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with all that food, though.”

“We can freeze the meat, and I’m sure everything else will keep for two weeks.” She got up and put her arms around his neck. “What?”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a smile before kissing him. He kissed her back for a few moments and then she pulled away and went into the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner tonight? You have a lot to choose from.”

He followed her. “The fish would probably be best for tonight. I imagine that would smell faster than anything else.”

“Fish it is, then,” she said. She began to put the food away, putting what she’d cooked away and then stowing the rest of the food. He helped, and within ten minutes they were done. “You mind if I wait a bit to cook?”

“That’s fine. I got a sandwich already,” he said. “I was hoping to just relax for a while.”

“Solve the case already?” she said with a grin.

He nodded. “Yes. Lestrade went to go pick the suspect up. I decided to come home and spend some time with you.”

“That’s very nice. Want to watch a movie or something?”

“We can do that. I think I’d prefer something I can easily ignore, if I get distracted.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say you wanted me to distract you?” she said with a smirk, going over to him and playing with the lapel of his suit jacket.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to do that,” he said as he put his hands on her waist.

“You can just come right out and ask me to spend some time kissing you. It’s fine,” she replied, moving her hands up and putting her arms around his neck. “I like doing that.”

“I know,” he said quietly before leaning in and kissing her. She kissed him back eagerly, and they stayed like that for a few minutes before she slowly began to back them towards the couch. She pulled away long enough to sit down and then pull him down next to her, and as soon as they were settled they started kissing again. This she liked, and it was a good distraction for the worries swimming around in her head. As long as she could do this for a while, things would be fine. Or at least she hoped they would be. She had the feeling that tonight, sleep might be hard to come by.


	8. Chapter 8

Wednesday rolled around faster than she would have liked. But Sherlock was going home with her, and she was thankful for that. Her aunt had been surprised that he’d wanted to come along, but had been fine with it, saying he could stay in the guest bedroom while they were there. Now she just had to worry about what everyone was going to say about her past. While she had told him a lot about her childhood in Leadworth, the one thing she had avoided was the Doctor. But he was going to be there, and people talked, and she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say or do about it. She was dreading someone bringing it up.

They got to Leadworth late Wednesday night, and her aunt was there to pick them up. She hugged her aunt tightly when they got off the bus, and got a strong hug in return. Then she pulled away and looked at her. She could see her aunt looked scared but was also quite determined as well. This was comforting. “Aunt Sharon, this is Sherlock Holmes,” she said when Sherlock came up to them with the bags they’d brought with them.

“Pleasure to meet you,” her aunt said, extending her hand to Sherlock.

He shook it once. “Likewise.”

“Well, I suppose the two of you must be hungry. I made supper and there’s still food left, if you want some. It was stew.”

“I’d love some,” Amy said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Sherlock said.

The three of them walked to her aunt’s car and got in. It was a short drive from the bus depot to Amy’s childhood home, and the closer they got the more nervous Amy became, and also the sadder she got. Soon she wasn’t going to have this home anymore. Someone else would be living there, and calling it their home, and what would she have left? As if he could sense her thoughts, Sherlock reached over and grasped her hand as they pulled into the driveway. She squeezed it tightly, then let go once her aunt turned off the car.

“The guest bedroom is upstairs, next to Amy’s room,” Aunt Sharon said as she let them in. “Amy can show you, Sherlock. I’ll go reheat something for the both of you.”

“Come on,” she said. She walked up the stairs with him behind her, then opened the door to the guest bedroom. “Here’s your room.”

He looked into it. “It’s nice.”

“I decorated it when I was thirteen. I wanted to be an interior designer,” she said with a smile. “I’m just next door if you need me.”

“All right,” he replied.

She moved down to her own room and opened the door. It was strange seeing her room after these last few months. It was familiar and yet it also felt alien, like it had belonged to someone else entirely. She took her suitcase to her bed and put it on top, then opened it and pulled out her clothes, putting them away in her dresser. She had brought her art supplies because all of her teachers had said they would give her credit for work she did while she was gone so her grades wouldn’t suffer, and she set those on her dresser next to all the incarnations of her Raggedy Doctor that she had made. She picked up the doll and looked at it for a moment, then set it back down. She would deal with all of these things later.

She finished putting her things away and turned around to see Sherlock in her doorway. “This room fits you,” he said quietly.

“It feels strange being here again,” she said, turning away from her dresser and going over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he held her close. “In two weeks I won’t get to come back here. Soon some other family will be here and it won’t be my home anymore.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of her head, and she relaxed against him.

“Thank you,” she said. She let go of him and took his hand before heading back down the stairs. Her aunt was in the kitchen and two bowls of warm stew were waiting for them. The two of them ate and spoke with her aunt, and by the time they decided to call it a night Amy was fairly sure her aunt liked Sherlock. She got ready for bed and laid down and tried to sleep, but it was hard. She kept glancing at the clock on her nightstand and watched as time ticked slowly by. Three hours after she started trying to sleep she gave up.

She left her room to head down to the kitchen, but paused at the guest bedroom door. She thought for a moment, then knocked softly. She knew he might not be asleep, since he kept odd hours at home, and was rewarded with the sound of feet padding towards the door. He opened it, clad in pajama bottoms only, and looked at her. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No,’ she said with a sigh. “You?”

“I was only dozing,” he replied. “Do you want to come in and talk?” She nodded, and he moved out of the doorway for her to come in. She went and sat on the bed and he sat next to her. When they were at home and they were both up at a strange hour they went to the living room or kitchen. She probably should have suggested that here but in all honesty she just wanted to be held. As if he could sense that he put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I had thought you might have trouble sleeping.”

“It’s all too much, and it’s happening too fast,” she said. “I feel so lost right now. Lost and alone.”

“But you’re not alone,” he said.

“I know. And I hate feeling that way.” She lifted her head up and looked at him. “Tonight…could I sleep here? With you?”

“Your aunt won’t be pleased.”

“You can wake me up early and I’ll go back to my room,” she replied. “I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He nodded slowly. “All right.” He let go of her and they got off the bed, and he got under the covers first. She went to the other side of the bed and got under as well, and he draped his arm across her waist and pulled her back against him. She put an arm over his and shut her eyes, relaxing more when he pressed a kiss in her hair. She’d never shared the same bed with any of her boyfriends before, and she had to admit this was nice. She felt herself drift off to sleep, and after a few moments she was out like a light.

It was still dark when she felt him shake her awake. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled.

“It’s six in the morning,” he said. “It’s time for you to go back to your own room.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was lying in bed next to her, him on his side and her on her back. He looked as though he had gotten some sleep as well, so that was good. “All right, fine, I’ll get up,” she said. Then she grinned slightly. “After I get a kiss.”

“I can do that,” he said, leaning over and kissing her. She framed his face in her hands and took her time kissing him back. She didn’t even register she was in bed until he moved and covered her up slightly, deepening the kiss. She knew she wasn’t ready to go further, but this was incredibly nice. She reluctantly pulled away, but not before moving her hands to his shoulders and running one down his back slightly. “This is a rather nice way to wake up,” he murmured.

She blushed slightly. “Yeah, it is,” she said with a smile.

“I was going to make some coffee, if that’s all right.”

“I should probably do that. I got enough sleep, so I can just get up for the day.” He rolled over and she got out of bed. She went to the door and opened it, looking out into the hallway to see if her aunt was up, then reached over for his hand as he came up behind her and led him back down to the kitchen. It wasn’t until they got to the kitchen that she saw he’d thrown on a shirt. She was slightly disappointed in that.

Her aunt had kept everything where she remembered, and she had the coffee started and was pulling out the ingredients to make pancakes when her aunt joined them. She gave Amy a speculative look and Amy wondered if she knew she hadn’t spent the night in her own room but in the end she didn’t say anything to her about it. She instead started talking about plans for the day and what needed to get done, and who was coming over to help.

When breakfast was finished she went to her room and changed. She had just pulled on a jumper when she heard a knock at the door. She turned and saw her aunt there. “Oh. I’m almost ready to come down and help in the living room.”

“You didn’t sleep in your room last night,” she said as she shut the door behind her.

Amy blushed. “Nothing happened, Aunt Sharon. Honest.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“I was concerned, when you told me you were dating someone older. I thought at first he might have tried to take advantage of you, especially since you live in the same home. But he seems to genuinely care about you.”

“I was his first real friend,” Amy said with a slight smile. “We were friends first, and that helped.”

“Well, I just want you to be careful,” she said, and Amy’s blush deepened. “I don’t want your heart broken.”

“I’ll be careful,” she said with a nod. 

“And if I come by to see how you’re doing at four in the morning I hope to see you in your own bed,” she said with a slight smile. “But I won’t worry too much if you’re not.”

“Trust me, we are not at _that_ point in our relationship yet,” she said. “He even agreed not to model for my class because it would have made me uncomfortable.”

“He was one of the nude models?” she asked, surprised.

“He was supposed to do it next week,” Amy said. “But he dropped out before all of this happened. I just…he’s my boyfriend and I didn’t want to see him naked right now and he understood.”

Aunt Sharon came up to her and hugged her. “Then he’s a good catch,” she said quietly. “I won’t worry about him taking advantage of you, I think.”

Amy hugged her back. “He won’t. I promise.” They stood like that for a few moments, and when Amy pulled away she saw unshed tears in her aunt’s eyes. “Oh God, don’t start crying. If you cry I’ll cry.”

“Then I won’t cry,” she said. “But it’s so nice to see you so grown up. I did a good job, right?”

“You did a fantastic job,” Amy said with a wide smile. “Come on. Let’s start packing stuff up. You’ve only got two weeks of the two of us here to help.” The two of them left Amy’s room at that point, and as Amy shut her bedroom door behind her she knew things were going to be okay.


	9. Chapter 9

Everything went smoothly the time they were in Leadworth. Amy got to see old friends and talk to the people she’d left behind, and that was nice. Sherlock was just a bit uncomfortable but he hid it well enough. No one mentioned the Doctor much, and usually when someone did they’d add something about how he was her imaginary friend when she was a child so she didn’t have to explain him. It made things easier for her to deal with.

The only rough spots were when she was alone with Rory. He didn’t like Sherlock, not at all. Amy could tell. But she and Rory had been over and done with for months before she even left Leadworth. And while he was nice to her he wasn’t very cordial to Sherlock. At first she tried to sympathize; after all, she’d gone off to London, met an older man, shared a flat with him and then started dating him. It was enough to make anyone jealous. But by the end of the first week she’d had enough. If he couldn’t be jealous then he should just go home.

“Come on, Rory. We’re going to take a walk,” she said finally on Thursday morning, after another tension filled morning of packing. Rory looked at her and blinked, but stood up and followed her out the door. Sherlock gave her a look as she left but she just shook her head and he went back to what he was doing. They left the house and walked down the road to the park. They’d spent a lot of time at that park when they were kids, and she was happy that nothing had changed in the months she’d been gone. She went to the swings and sat on one, then pointed to the other. Rory sat down and looked at her. “I know you don’t like him.”

Rory didn’t look at her. He stared straight ahead and stayed silent. She waited for him to speak. Finally, after a few moments, he sighed. “No, I don’t.”

“Why? Because he’s older? Because I share a flat with him? It’s not as if we share the same room. We have our own rooms. Or is it because I like him now and not you?”

“A mix of all of that,” Rory said. “And there’s the fact he’s more handsome than I am.”

“Oh, Rory, you git. You are plenty handsome,” she said. “I have seen the way Jessica Marsh keeps staring at you, like she wants to devour you whole.” He looked over at her and gave him a smile. “I’m not sorry I like him. I’m not sorry he’s here. I just wish you’d see that he’s a good guy, and he cares about me, and that he’s a friend of mine before he’s anything else. You’re my oldest friend, and your opinion is important to me.”

“I thought I was just the ex,” he replied.

“Please. You’ve been my best friend since I moved to Leadworth. You let me convince you to play Raggedy Doctor every day for three years. You know more about me than anyone else, even him.” She reached over and grasped his hand in hers. “If you were dating someone else right now I’d be happy for you, I really would. You and I just don’t work as more than friends. We tried it already. And I want you to be happy because I care about you.”

“Why him?”

“When I first met him he was an arse. He was cocky and stubborn and a real snob. But he let his guard down around me, and I found that he’s thoughtful and caring and he might still be a bit of a snob but that’s just him. And he’s brilliant, and I just…he’s the right guy for me right now. Maybe not forever. Maybe just right now. But I’m living for right now because life is just too short.” She squeezed his hand. “He’s one of my good friends before he’s anything else. He understands me, he really gets me. And I understand him. That’s a rare thing for him. He has acquaintances but not friends, except for me. But just remember, you’re my bestest best friend.”

“Bestest best friend?” Rory asked, quirking an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes and let go of his hand, punching him in the arm instead. “Yes, bestest best friend. I’m always going to love you, Rory, because you know me just as well as I know myself, and you’ve known me the longest, and you still tolerate me. When I’m old and gray I expect to be in a nursing home and have you live in the room next door, and we’ll gossip and stuff.”

“Do you love him?” he asked.

She was quiet for a few moments. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before, Rory, so I can’t really say. But I care about him, so much. I might be falling in love. Who knows? I might already be there. But I don’t not want him in my life, I know that much.”

“He’s a lucky bastard,” he said.

“He is, isn’t he?” Amy said with a grin, and when Rory made a face she chuckled. “You’ll find someone. You’ll be happy like I’m happy. I know it. I can see it in your future.”

“You really think Jessica fancies me?” he asked as she kicked off the ground.

“Oh yeah. She wants to rip your clothes off and take you on the spot,” she said as she began to swing. “And you could do an awful lot worse.”

“Like who?”

“Mildred Franklin,” she said. “She fancies you too. I don’t think you two would get on well, though.”

Rory made a face as he began to swing. “You’re absolutely right. It would be like fire and water.”

“See? So go with Jessica. She’s a nice girl.” She looked over at Rory and grinned, and when she got a grin in return she knew she’d accomplished her mission. They stayed on the swings for a little while longer and then headed back to her home. Amy watched in amusement as Rory focused his attention on hating Sherlock to chatting up Jessica.

At the end of the day Aunt Sharon told them she’d be going out for the evening, leaving Amy and Sherlock alone. They made dinner and ate it off paper plates and with plastic silverware since the dishes had all been packed away earlier in the day. The TV was still plugged in, and the movies were still out, so they popped in a movie and curled up on the couch together. “What did you talk to Williams about?” he asked a quarter of the way into the movie.

“About us, and about why he shouldn’t be jealous,” she replied. “He’s a good guy, and he doesn’t need to be caught up on me. He should be happy with someone else, just like I’m happy with you.”

“He seemed to have a different attitude when he returned,” Sherlock replied.

“I told him Jessica fancied him,” she said with a smile. “He told me before he left that they were going to go out on a date tonight. I’m happy for him.”

“Maybe we could go out on a date while we’re here,” he said thoughtfully.

“There’s not much to do, just the movies and dinner and stuff,” she said. “I mean, other than going to take a walk at night. I used to take a lot of walks before I left.”

“Are there any other exes I should be worried about?”

She shook her head. “Nope. You met all of them, and they’ve all moved on.” She lifted her head up and looked at him. “Besides, I think I need to be more worried about some girl trying to steal you away from me than some ex trying to get me back.”

“I expect it would be very hard for another girl to steal me away, considering that none of them are as fascinating as you are,’ he said. “I do believe you’ve caught my heart.”

She smiled at him. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she said as she beamed at him. “You’ve got my heart, too.”

“I don’t know if it’s the same as being in love with you, but I don’t want to be with anyone else, and I care for you more than I’ve cared for anyone else.”

“Even Mycroft?”

“Especially Mycroft.” He reached over and touched her face. “Do you feel the same?”

“I do,” she said, moving closer to him. “I’ve had other boyfriends before, and it never felt like this before. Rory asked me if I was in love with you, and I said I wasn’t sure, but…maybe I am.”

“Then maybe I’m in love with you,” he replied.

“I can live with that,” she said quietly, closing the gap between them and kissing him. They were both traveling down a road they didn’t know very well, but at least this showed they were on the right path. She could live with a maybe for now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the explicit chapter, if you want to skip it.

The packing finished up over the next few days. Amy saved her room for last, and did it with Sherlock’s help. She had packed away her art of the Doctor before he came in, and so most of the packing was deciding what she was trashing, what she was giving away and what she was having sent to London. Her aunt had told her she would have a room in her new home so she was keeping all her furniture, though she’d decided she was having the bed at 221B Baker Street sent to her aunt’s new home and this bed sent there.

Most of the day was her going over old memories as she packed her things, sharing them with Sherlock. He had learned a lot about her over the last two weeks, and apparently it hadn’t scared him off. She was thankful for that. She was starting to think that maybe he would be a guy who stuck around for a long time. She hoped he was, at any rate. If she had been unsure that she’d fallen in love with him before she knew now, for sure, that she loved him.

When they were done they had the house to themselves again. She had kept the television in her room out and had three movies that she was taking back with her in the room, so she and Sherlock laid down on the bed and watched a movie together. Or they attempted to; they started kissing halfway through and would keep getting distracted. As had happened the last few times they’d kissed the kisses quickly became more heated. It was with extreme reluctance that she pulled away nearly a half hour later. “If we keep that up I don’t know what will happen next,” she said, catching her breath.

“It is getting harder to separate ourselves,” he said.

“Yeah. Maybe that’s a sign I might be getting more used to going further. I’m not sure.”

“I won’t put any pressure on you about that,” he said.

“Good.” She licked her lips slightly. “Maybe tonight we should probably sleep in our own rooms.”

“Probably,” he said with a nod. “But for now, I would like to go back to what we were just doing.”

“All right,” she said, kissing him again. They continued to kiss for the rest of the movie, and even when it went back to the main menu they ignored everything except each other until they heard the front door open. They left her room and made small talk with her Aunt Sharon for a while, and then decided to retire to bed shortly after that. She got dressed for bed and got under her covers, but she couldn’t sleep. Amy knew that even though she _should_ sleep alone tonight she probably wouldn’t. The knock on her door an hour later didn’t surprise her, and when she got out of bed and opened her door he was standing there. “Shouldn’t I go to your room?” she asked.

“I thought perhaps it might be all right if I came to yours,” he replied. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” she said. She moved out of the way and he came in, standing in the center of her room. She shut the door and went over to him, putting her arms around his neck. He settled his hands on her waist and kissed her softly. She kissed him back, relaxing against him. Kissing him was probably one of her favorite things to do because it felt so nice, and tonight wasn’t an exception. The kisses started to rise in temperature and she began to move them to her bed. She felt the back of her legs hit the bed and she clung onto him a little more.

“Do you want to go further?” he asked as he pulled away, staring at her intently. “If you say no, we can go to bed and go to sleep, or I can go back to my own room, if you prefer. I won’t pressure you.”

“I just want to kiss you some more,” she said. “If I want to stop I’ll tell you to stop.”

“All right,” he said. She pulled away slightly and sat on the edge of her bed, and he leaned down and kissed her, using his body to lower her back onto the mattress. He propped himself up over her, and she ran her hands up and down his back over his shirt. He used one hand to run it along her side and when he got to the bottom of her camisole top he slipped his fingers underneath and traced a pattern on her skin. She shivered slightly and used her hands to press him closer to her. He retaliated by putting his entire hand on her side and inching his way up, catching the hem of the shirt under his thumb and pulling it up as he went.

She let her hands go down to the bottom of his shirt and she began to pull it up. She got his shirt up farthest first, and he pulled away from her to take it off as she pulled her camisole top off, leaving her nude from the waist up. When he came back to her he didn’t kiss her, but instead began to explore, starting with her neck. She shut her eyes and swallowed back a moan when he nipped at her pulse point before travelling lower. She knew this was new territory for both of them and they were going on instinct, and his instincts were superb. He travelled down to the curves of her breasts and then lower towards her stomach. She retaliated by running her nails lightly up his back before finally pulling her hands away and letting him do what he pleased. He made his way back up to her lips just as slowly, and the kiss was deep and satisfying. She didn’t want him to stop kissing her like this.

He pulled away to catch his breath, and she reached up and trace his lips with her finger. “I think I would like to go farther,” she said quietly, trying to catch her breath. “But only if you want to.”

“I want to,” he said with a slight nod. “But I will admit I’m nervous.”

“Just remember it’s my first time too,” she said with a slight smile. “So we’re pretty much just acting on instinct.”

“And how have my instincts been so far?” he asked, a slight smile on his face.

“I think you cheated and read a woman’s magazine to find out what I’d like,” she said, her smile widening.

“I didn’t,” he said with a slight chuckle. “But I’m glad to know it’s been something you’ve enjoyed.” He kissed her again. “I apologize in advance if the rest is rubbish.”

“So noted,” she said with a slight laugh. She kissed him again and they stayed like that for a few minutes before he moved his hand to the waistband of the pajama pants she was wearing. She lifted her hips up slightly and he pulled away from the kiss to pull her pants and panties down. Soon she was completely naked. She watched him shed his own clothing and was suddenly very glad that this was the first time she got to see him naked. It may have been different if she’d seen him posing first but tonight he looked sexy and attractive and she knew he was all hers.

He went back to his pants and pulled out a packet. At least one of them was prepared, and she was thankful for it. He opened up the packet, took the condom out and put it on himself, then came to her again and kissed her. She lifted a leg up slightly and rubbed it against his bare thigh, enjoying the feel of bare flesh touching bare flesh. She opened herself up to him more and he positioned himself in front of her. After a moment, he got into position and pushed. She felt him fill her up and he felt large, but not too large. After a moment he gave a hard thrust and she gasped as she felt pain.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked gently as she bit her lip.

She nodded slightly and he kissed her gently, not moving at all. She kissed him back, and after a moment the pain subsided. She pulled away from the kiss. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said quietly, touching his face. “Go ahead.”

He pulled out slightly, and then thrust again, though not as hard this time. She felt the friction in his movements and while it still hurt a bit it also felt really good. He pulled out and thrust again, and then again, and soon they were in a rhythm that she knew was as old as time. She moved her hands to his back and clung to him and he thrust into her repeatedly and a tension built up inside her. She clung onto him, digging her nails into his skin as he increased the speed of his thrusts. The tension kept building and then suddenly it burst, and she felt waves of pleasure. She moaned slightly but he covered her mouth with his, kissing her and swallowing up the moan as he came himself, and then he let his thrusts slow until finally he stopped.

They stayed like that for a few moments, their bodies calming down as they continued to kiss, and then he pulled away and looked at her. She smiled at him and pulled him down for another kiss, this one more tender than the others. When he pulled away from the kiss he also pulled away from her. She looked at him with a grin on her face. For a first time it didn’t go as badly as it could have. It had actually gone quite well. She got off the bed to get a towel to clean herself up with, thankful that she had a dark duvet on her bed. She got her two towels and handed him one before cleaning up.

“That was very good,” she said when she was done, reaching over for him. “We should probably try and get some sleep now.”

“All right,” he said with a nod. She pulled back the covers and climbed into bed, still naked, and he got in next to her. She kissed him, a soft and lingering kiss, then rolled over so her back was against his chest. He draped an arm over her waist and pulled her close, and she drifted off into a contented sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

They went back to London the next morning, and when they got home they unpacked and she made them something to eat, and then they went to sleep, both of them in his room. They didn’t have sex because she was still sore from their first time, but she liked being close to him and they both seemed to sleep better in the same bed than in separate beds. The next morning they woke up tangled together and it took them a while to get out of bed, but when they did she went to the kitchen to make them breakfast. About halfway through breakfast Sherlock got a call from Lestrade and left to go work on a case shortly afterwards.

She had decided to take the rest of the week off of school so she went to the park that day and did some sketching of people there. She was so absorbed with the sketching that it took her a while to sense that someone was standing behind her. She turned and saw Mycroft standing there, his hands resting on the handle of his umbrella. “You have remarkable skill,” he said when she stopped drawing and looked at him.

“Thank you,” she said as she lowered her sketchpad. “I thought you were supposed to call before you met up with me.”

“I was taking a walk through the park to clear my head and I spotted you,” he replied. “I don’t have your money on me right now.”

“So this is a social call,” she said with a slight grin.

“I suppose.” He motioned to the seat next to her with his head and she nodded. He walked around the bench and sat next to her. “I confess I am curious about something.”

“What are you curious about?” she asked.

“What do you see in my brother?”

She looked at him intently. “He’s…complicated. On the surface he’s a snob and an elitist jerk, and he knows he’s brilliant and that sometimes makes him hard to be around. He can be stubborn and insensitive at times, too. But when he lets his guard down, when he lets you get to know him, he’s kind and gentle, and a good listener, and he’s interesting. When he chooses to trust you, he becomes a guy you really want to know.”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m fairly sure I am,” she said with a nod.

“We all worried about him, you know. When he was a child he was bright and inquisitive, and very warm. Things happened and he changed, became more like a robot and less like a human being. I will admit I am one to have a stiff upper lip, but he went beyond that. And then he met you and he’s…changing. For the better.”

“I’m glad,” she replied.

“I am as well,” he replied. “I had come to miss aspects of his personality that I’m slowly seeing return. Before you both left for Leadworth I saw him smile a genuine smile for the first time in years.”

“What made him smile?”

“You. I remarked that you seemed to be a good influence on him and he smiled and agreed.”

She smiled at that. It was nice to know that even when she wasn’t around she could bring a smile to his face. “That’s good.”

“I have told our mother about you, and I’m sure he has as well. She would like to meet you at some point in the near future.” He paused. “I know Sherlock should be the one to bring this up, as you are his girlfriend, but I thought I would let you know in advance.”

“I have no problem meeting her,” she replied.

“I’ll tell Sherlock that it should happen sooner than later,” he said. “I suppose for now you should concentrate on school. This term is nearly over and you had to miss school for your family emergency. Perhaps over Christmas a meeting can be arranged.”

“As long as I get to spend Christmas day with my aunt,” she replied. “I get the feeling she’s going to want a nice holiday, what with the treatments and stuff.”

“Yes, of course,” he replied with a nod. “Maybe the evening before.”

“All right.” She gave him a grin. “How long can you stay out here?”

“A little while, perhaps. Why?”

“I thought I might sketch you.”

He looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Won’t take long, I promise.”

He thought about it for a moment. “Very well. What do you need me to do?”

“Get comfortable, and try not to move.” She picked up her sketch pad and charcoal stick and waited a moment before beginning to draw. He stayed there for nearly a half hour, and as a sort of reward she gave him the sketch, though he insisted she sign it first. After he left she turned her attention to other people in the park for a few hours and then went home to eat. Sherlock was there, having some of the leftovers from dinner the night before. “Hello,” she said, going over to the table and kissing his cheek.

“Hello,” he replied.

“You’ll never guess who I ran into at the park,” she replied.

“Who?”

“Mycroft.” 

“I thought he wasn’t supposed to meet with you until later today,” he replied before taking a bite of his food.

“We just happened to be in the same park. We talked and he let me sketch him.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Our favorite topic of conversation.” He looked at her and she chuckled slightly. “You.”

“Ah.” He turned and watched her in the kitchen. “Did you talk about anything important?”

“He mentioned your mother would like to meet me,” she said.

“I know. She seems quite keen on the idea,” he said sourly.

“I told him I didn’t mind meeting her.” He looked surprised, and she laughed again. “You already met the woman who raised me. It’s only fair I do the same. But Mycroft said something about Christmas Eve. He mentioned I should concentrate on school for now.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Sherlock said. “How did your sketching go today?”

“Good. I’ve done enough work over the last two weeks to satisfy my teachers, or at least I hope so. I know that the professor you work for would prefer if I’d done nude modeling like everyone else in the class, but I can’t help that.”

“You still could, you know.”

“Hmm?” she asked.

“You seem to not have a problem with seeing me naked now,” he said. “I could model for you.”

She thought about it for a moment, ignoring the food she was making. “You could,” she said thoughtfully. “When do you want to do this?”

“I’ll be busy tomorrow and Saturday, so either this afternoon or Sunday.”

“We could do it this afternoon,” she said. “Let’s finish eating first.” He nodded and went back to his food while she finished making hers. She ate quickly and then looked at him. “Where do we want to do this?”

“In one of the bedrooms,” he said.

“I like your bedroom more,” she replied.

“All right then.” She got her supplies and they went to his bedroom and shut the door behind them. She sat down in his chair as he began to disrobe, and she had to admit she enjoyed the view. When he was naked she got up and posed him and then went back to the chair. Drawing him naked was easier now that she’d slept with him, she realized. If he’d made the same offer and they hadn’t been together it might not have been as easy. She did a few sketches, then got up and reposed him and went back to work. Two hours later she looked at her sketch pad, satisfied that she’d done a good job. She set her pad and charcoal on his dresser and came up to him. “Finished already?” he asked

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll show them to you later.”

He looked at her as a smile dawned on his face. “You have other plans right now?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking I’m a little overdressed for my plans, though.”

He looked down at her. “I think you are as well. Anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, I’m sure you can think of a good way to help,” she said with a smile before leaning in and kissing him. He kissed her back as his hands went to the bottom of her jumper and he began to pull it up. She decided that this was going to be a lot more fun than concentrating on her school work, and by the time she was naked she’d decided she wanted to do this as often as she could.

When they were done and curled up in bed together, tangled in sheets and each other’s limbs, she turned to look at him. “What’s going to happen when Mrs. Hudson comes home?”

He frowned slightly. “We probably won’t get to do this as often,” he replied. “I don’t know how she’d feel about it. We’ll probably need to start sleeping in our own rooms again as well.”

“I’m not looking forward to that,” she said with a sigh. “How long do we have?”

“At least a month and a half,” he replied. “That’s when she’ll be out of the wheelchair.”

“Then we’ll have to make the time count,” she said.

“I suppose we will. If she objects to the idea that we are in a relationship and prefer to sleep in the same bed I suppose there are times we can get a hotel room. I have enough money to cover some times.”

“I do too,” she said. “And if Mycroft keeps paying me I’ll have more.” She pulled his hand up from around her and kissed his palm. “We’ll make it work. We’ll have to.”

He nodded, then pulled his hand away and touched her face. “I think we’ll be fine. This relationship is important to both of us. We’ll make it work.”

“Good,” She leaned in and kissed him, a kiss she had intended to be short and sweet but what ended up becoming something more drawn out. She still had some time where it was just the two of them and no one else, she thought when she finally pulled away and he pulled her close against him. But when that day came she had the feeling their relationship was in store for some changes, and she wasn’t looking forward to that.


	12. Chapter 12

As time went by things were going well. Amy’s aunt moved to London about a week after she and Sherlock had returned, and Amy spent some time with her when she had her surgery the week after that. She didn’t need to miss any school, but now there was a standing date between them for dinner, and Amy started to learn what foods would be good for someone going through radiation and chemotherapy and began preparing them for her aunt while she made meals for her and Sherlock. Some nights Sherlock went to dinner with her, and if her aunt had figured out that their relationship had gotten physical she said nothing.

Mrs. Hudson returned to 221B Baker Street when she got out of her wheelchair a month after Aunt Sharon’s surgery. Amy was happy but also dreaded it. She and Sherlock had spent the night before in his room, enjoying what might be the last night they were able to sleep in the same bed. They decided to have some fun when they woke up, and after an hour they both went into the living room.

“Good morning, dears,” they heard Mrs. Hudson say from the doorway into the living room.

“Oh my God,” Amy said under her breath, freezing completely. Her bedroom was upstairs, and with Mrs. Hudson at the doorway there was no way Amy could play off that she’d spent the night in her own room.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said, moving around Amy to go to her. Amy finally moved further into the living room and saw Mrs. Hudson was in a plaster cast all the way up her thigh and on crutches. He went over to her and kissed her cheek, and Mrs. Hudson beamed at him.

Amy went over and gave her a hug, acutely aware that she was wearing one of Sherlock’s button down shirts and her own sleep shorts. “Good to have you home,” she said.

“It’s good to be home,” she replied, returning the hug a bit awkwardly. “I see a few things have changed since I’ve been gone.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a nod. “Though I did tell you that Amy and I were in a relationship not that soon after it happened.”

“I know that,” she said with a smile, making her way into the room. “I meant the sleeping arrangements. Does this mean the two of you will be sharing a room?”

Amy looked at Sherlock, who looked back. Even he looked surprised by the question. “Well, no, I was planning on keeping my room,” Amy said, nervously playing with a strand of hair.

“That’s a shame. If you two shared a room I could rent out the other room and give you a discount on your rent,” she said.

“So you have no problem with us sharing a room?” Sherlock asked.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. “You’re both adults. I’ve known you since you were young, Sherlock. I almost feared you’d never be in a relationship, much less one with such a wonderful young woman. If the two of you want to spend your nights together I won’t object. Just be respectful with noise levels and keep those sorts of activities in one of the bedrooms.”

“Of course,” Sherlock said as Amy began to turn red. “We will be respectful, right, Amy?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, nodding vigorously.

“Give some thought to sharing the room,” Mrs. Hudson replied. “I would recommend you take Sherlock’s room, as it is bigger.”

“Okay,” Amy said, looking at Sherlock.

He moved over to her. “Why don’t you start breakfast?” he said quietly.

“Okay,” she said. He reached over for her hand and squeezed it once, then let go. Then she turned back to Mrs. Hudson. “Would you like to join us, Mrs. Hudson? I was going to make blackberry pancakes.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. Thank you, dear.” She smiled at Amy. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I didn’t intend to.”

“I know,” she said. “I just…it was rather straightforward and I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“No point in beating around the bush,” she replied. “But let’s change the topic, shall we? How has school been going?”

“It’s been going well. The term ends soon, so we’re trying to get the projects finished that we need to. I only need to do one more session with Sherlock and then I’ll be finished. I can’t wait.”

“I would love to see some of your work.”

“Maybe I could sketch you for a bit,” Amy said as she relaxed more. She went into the kitchen and started getting the ingredients for pancakes. “Give one to you as a welcome home gift.”

“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Hudson replied with a warm smile on her face.

Amy smiled back and then got to work. Mrs. Hudson began to talk to Sherlock and Amy ignored them to concentrate on the food. In about thirty minutes she had the first few pancakes done and she served them to Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson before making some more for herself. When she was done she took her plate to the table and dug in, joining in the conversation the two of them were having. When breakfast was over Mrs. Hudson excused herself and left the two of them with their cups of coffee.

“She has a point,” he said after he took a sip of coffee. “About us sharing a room. We’ve spent the last two months sleeping in the same bed. It would make more sense for us to do that.”

She looked at her coffee. “I know. But I like having my own space, too. I mean, what if we were to have a fight? We haven’t had one yet and I like the idea of having a place to go if I just get so angry at you I don’t want to see you.”

“I don’t like the idea of us having that bad of a fight, but if we did I’d take the sofa.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’d let me kick you out of the room?”

“I’d stay out here and work on something,” he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “And as for space of your own, there’s enough room to move your desk into my room.”

“What about my bed and dresser? I mean, your dresser isn’t big enough to hold all your clothes and my clothes.”

“I know we’ve spent a lot of time in my bed but I actually prefer yours. It’s just slightly bigger. And we could always squeeze two dressers into the room, or pool our money together and buy a new one.”

She looked at him. “Do you ever think we moved too fast?” she asked quietly. “We’ve only been together a few months.”

“I’ve just been moving at the pace that feels natural. If this is too soon I understand.”

“That’s just the thing. It doesn’t seem too soon,” she said with a sigh. “And it makes sense. I just…I don’t know. I think everyone else is going to look at us and say we’re moving too fast and I’ll have to justify it to everyone.”

“Well, think on it for a bit. We can continue to have separate rooms for now.” He took another sip of his coffee. “I do know I sleep better when you’re in bed with me, though.”

“Yeah, me too.” She took her spoon and stirred her coffee, thinking things over. “What if we just kept my bed and bought all new furniture, big enough for both of our things?”

He nodded slowly. “I could agree to that. What would we do with our old furniture?”

“Sell it, I guess. I’m not really attached to anything except my bed and my art.” She looked at him. “Could I hang my art up in your room?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said. “So, we’re going to tell Mrs. Hudson we will in fact be sharing a room?”

“I guess so,” she said. “Let’s just keep it between the three of us, though. If my aunt or Mycroft asks, we have separate rooms.”

“I sincerely doubt Mycroft will care,” he pointed out.

“He might.” She took a long sip of coffee. “When do you want to do this?”

“When your term is over. We can arrange to sell the furniture now and put the money towards new things.”

“Well, we can move my bed into your room now,” she said. “I think the two of us could handle switching the beds. Did you have plans for the day?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then let’s move the beds today and I’ll just stay in your room from now on.” She paused. “Our room. It’s going to be our room now.”

He grinned slightly. “That sounds rather nice.”

She grinned back at him. “It does, doesn’t it?” She finished her coffee and stood up. “Let me go get dressed and we can start.” She moved past him but he caught her free hand in his and she stopped. “What?”

“You’ve told me when I want a kiss I should ask for one. I’d like a kiss.”

She grinned wider and leaned down to kiss him. He let go of her hand and touched her face and the kiss went on longer than she’d expected. She pulled away slightly after a few minutes. “If you don’t stop kissing me I can’t get dressed and we can’t switch beds,” she murmured against his lips.

“I can wait a few minutes,” he said, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her onto his lap. She laughed and leaned in to kiss him again.

“I thought you two agreed not to do that out here,” Mrs. Hudson said from the doorway a few minutes later.

“We agreed to no sex. You said nothing about kissing,” Sherlock said as he pulled away from Amy, who had a wide smile on her face.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, but she wore a smile. “Just make sure.”

“We decided we’re going to share Sherlock’s room,” Amy said from his lap. “We’ll move in together completely when school is over.”

“Splendid,” Mrs. Hudson said. “That gives me some time for prospective tenants to come look at your room, Amy.”

“We’ll be switching beds today,” Sherlock replied. “Do you know anyone who might want our furniture?”

“My nephew is getting a place of his own this week, actually,” she replied. “He could use furniture. Are you getting rid of all of it?”

Amy nodded. “We’re going to buy new stuff.”

“He would probably like Sherlock’s furniture. I’ll have him come take a look and you can quote him a price.” Mrs. Hudson looked at him. “He doesn’t have much money, so don’t charge too much.”

“I’ll be fair. Tell him the sooner he can get it, the better.” Then he turned to Amy. “We can use your furniture until we buy new things.”

“So ‘end of term’ became ‘end of day,’ apparently,” Amy said with a grin. “That’s fine, though. We don’t have to wait.” She gave him a quick kiss and got off his lap. “Now I definitely need to go change.” She left the living room and went upstairs to her room, pulling out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She quickly changed and then went back to the living room to go clean up after breakfast. Sherlock was on the phone with someone. From the sound of the conversation it appeared to be Mrs. Hudson’s nephew. She finished the dishes as he got off the phone. “Well?”

“He’ll be here in a half hour, and if he likes it he’ll take it all today. His friend is a furniture mover and happens to be free for the day. I volunteered us to help move it, however.”

“No problem. If your room is empty it will be easier to move my bed in,” she said. “Maybe we can get them to help.”

“Perhaps. I need to go clear out my dresser and desk, just in case.”

“I still have the boxes from when I moved in here,” Amy said. “Let me go grab them. They’re in my closet.”

“I’ll go with you.” The two of them went to her room and got the broken down boxes. Amy rummaged around her desk and found the packing tape she’d bought for her move here and took it with them. They opened the boxes and began putting things in them. Mrs. Hudson’s nephew came promptly a half hour later and took a look at the furniture, agreeing to take it all. His friend had come with him just in case so while Amy and Sherlock cleared out his dresser the two men took the already emptied desk. By the time they got the dresser cleared out the men had started in on the bed, having hauled out the mattress and box springs.

“Wow, they’re quick,” Amy said as she removed the wooden slats that held the sides of Sherlock’s bed in place. “It’s only been, what, forty minutes?”

Sherlock continued to empty out his nightstand. “I suppose.”

“I’m kind of glad he’s taking it all. Now we just need to get rid of my furniture and get new stuff.” She got the last slat out and put it on top of the others. “This is kind of exciting.”

“It is, in its way,” Sherlock said. “I had thought I would spend my adult years alone, to be honest.”

“Someone would have come along and swept you off your feet eventually,” she said.

“I’m just glad it was you,” he said, looking at her intently.

“I’m glad it was me too,” she said with a wide smile which he returned after a moment. They lapsed into silence as they got back to work, and within two hours all the furniture was out of his room and Amy’s bed was the only thing in there, since Mrs. Hudson’s nephew and his friend had helped move it and put it back together. The nephew had also bought the sheets and duvet set Sherlock had on his bed, so Amy put her spare set on the bed. She and Sherlock collapsed on the bed when it was just the two of them again. “It’s still fairly early but I’m tired,” she said after a moment.

“This room looks much bigger without furniture,” Sherlock said as he sat up slightly. 

“Yeah, it looks huge.” She sat up as well. “Well, I may be tired but we need to go furniture shopping. Are you up to it?”

“Do I have a choice?” he asked.

“Nope. If I’m going to move my furniture I want it to be moved out the door and that’s it.” She reached over for his hand and squeezed. “Come on. It can’t be that hard.”

Four hours later she was regretting her choice of words. She and Sherlock had similar tastes in furniture, and they both wanted good quality pieces. They went to five stores and found nothing they liked except two bedside lamps and a print that she thought would look nice in the living room. They entered the sixth store in a slightly grouchy mood. But in the center of the room Amy saw it. She nudged Sherlock and pointed, and they went over to the bedroom set. “This looks promising,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” she said with a grin. She went to the dresser and opened drawers. “This is big enough to hold all our clothes.”

“It is,” he said with a nod as he came over. Then he looked at the vanity. “This could double as a desk.”

“I like it so far,” Amy said with a nod as she drifted over to the nightstands. “And we’d each get a nightstand.”

“Shopping for your first home?” They both looked over at a blonde woman who approached them, extending her hand to Sherlock. “I saw your wife come right over. She has good taste.”

“I’m not his wife, just his girlfriend,” Amy said as Sherlock shook her hand. This was the sixth time she’d had to say that today. She extended it to Amy as well and she shook it.

“Ah. Well, this is a good bedroom set for any couple. It comes in this oak finish, but also cherry and walnut.”

“How much is it?” Sherlock asked. The saleswoman opened the book she had with her and quoted a price. It was slightly more than they had planned on spending. He turned to Amy. “Well?”

She thought for a moment. “I can put in some more for this,” she said as she ran her hand on the nightstand.

“Well, that’s for the entire bedroom set, bed included,” the saleswoman said.

“We have a bed already,” Amy said.

“It would be less expensive, in that case. Let me see if I can get you an exact amount.” The saleswoman looked in her book, then pulled out a calculator and began adding things together. The next amount she told them was definitely in their price range.

“How soon can you have it delivered?” Sherlock asked.

“Depending on your choice of wood, as early as today or as late as tomorrow afternoon.”

“What wood would we need to get it today?” Amy asked.

“The oak or walnut.”

“I like this set,” Amy said to Sherlock. “And it can be delivered today. You won’t have to live out of boxes.”

“Are you sure?” he said. She nodded, and then he turned back to the saleswoman. “We’ll take it in oak.”

“Excellent,” she replied with a smile. “If you’ll just follow me, we’ll take care of all the details and we’ll arrange for delivery by five this evening.”

Amy let Sherlock go tend to the details, handing him her bank card before he left. She took a closer look at the furniture and the more she looked the more she was pleased this is what they were going to get. A half hour later he came back to get her to sign for the furniture and then they left the store hand in hand. “So it’s done,” she said as they walked down the street. “As of tonight we’ll be living together in the same room.”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Are you nervous?”

“Nope, not at all,” she said with a smile. “But I will tell you one thing I am.”

“What’s that?”

“Hungry. Do we have time to eat before we have to get home and show them where to put everything?”

He nodded. “We have a few hours.”

“Good. Let’s go get something to eat, then go home. You can help me box up my stuff again.” She hurried her pace, pulling him along until they got to an Indian restaurant. They went inside and had a good meal and then left to go home. They arrived at 4:26 and waited for the furniture delivery. The people delivering the furniture arrived at exactly five o’clock and expertly moved the furniture into the room. An hour later they were gone and Amy surveyed the room. Sherlock came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “I think it is very…us.”

“It is,” he said, kissing her neck lightly. She shivered slightly. “I say we spend some time in here.”

“Right now?” she asked, turning in his arms and putting her arms around his neck. He nodded in response and so she leaned in and kissed him softly. “Moving and unpacking can wait, then,” she murmured when she pulled away to catch her breath.

“My thoughts exactly,” he replied before kissing her again. It was quite a while later when they finally did leave the room to start bringing her things in, and very late by the time they finished putting everything away, nearly midnight. They changed into their sleep clothes and crawled into bed, him pulling her close against him as they drifted off into sleep their first night together in their room. Her last thought was that she wouldn’t have it any other way.


	13. Chapter 13

“Your relationship with Sherlock is very serious, isn’t it?” Aunt Sharon asked when Amy visited her the day before Christmas. She had gotten through her first term of university with flying colors, and everything in her life seemed to be going well. She was happy, happier than she had been in a long time, and she wanted everyone else to be happy as well. 

“Yes,” Amy replied with a nod. She still hadn’t told her aunt that they were sharing a room now, and she wasn’t sure she would for a little while at least.

“Are you being careful?” she asked.

Amy blushed slightly. “Yes, I’m being careful.”

“Good. I don’t think you’re ready for anything to happen,” she replied. “You still have so much ahead of you.”

“I know,” she said.

“Still, I rather like him,” Aunt Sharon said with a smile. “He could be worse for a nephew-in-law.”

“We aren’t even close to that point yet,” she said with a shake of her head.

“But you are sharing a room, are you not?” Amy looked at her, surprised. “He said our room when he was here last week instead of my room when he spoke to you. I didn’t think either of you thought I’d notice.”

Amy nodded slowly. “Yeah, we’re sharing a room. We’d just gotten so used to sleeping in the same bed at night that it made more sense.”

“I had wondered why you told me you’d be covering your own rent now,” she said. “It seems just a little fast, though, doesn’t it?”

“Not to us,” she said. “It just feels natural. And we’ve done everything out of order already, what with living together before we started dating.” She finished doing the dishes and looked at her aunt. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I don’t,” her aunt said with a smile. “I don’t think he’d purposefully hurt you, and if you’re comfortable with things as they are…well, I trust your judgment.”

Amy reached over and gave her a hug. “Thank you.”

Her aunt hugged her back. “You’re welcome.” She began to dry the dishes. “So tomorrow you’re going to meet his mother?”

Amy nodded. “She seems to really want to meet me. I’m kind of nervous, but not really. Both of her sons seem to be under the impression that she likes me already.”

“That’s good,” her aunt replied. “Are you still coming by tomorrow?”

“Of course I am,” Amy said. “I told Mrs. Hudson I’d make us all breakfast in the morning, and we’d all exchange presents then, and then Sherlock and I will be here at three for an early dinner with you and then I meet his mother at seven. Is Brian going to be here?”

Aunt Sharon nodded. “Yes. I never expected to meet someone so quickly after moving here, but…he’s nice. He’s good for me, I think. And I think he likes you a lot.”

“Well, I like him too,” Amy said with a smile. “I don’t worry as much about you now that you started dating him. Is he going to be cooking for us?”

“Yes. I think it’s a very good thing he’s a chef, because he makes the best food, and he’s patient in cooking for me when I’m not sure I can hold anything down.”

“He takes good care of you.” Amy grabbed another towel and helped dry the dishes.

“Someone bought the house, finally,” her aunt said. “I know I promised you a share of the money so I’ll be able to give it to you next week.”

Amy was quiet. “It feels strange knowing someone else is going to move in there,” she said after a moment. “But the money will come in handy, so that’s good.”

“Yes. I don’t know much about the person who bought it, but they’ll be moving in sometime in January.”

“That’s good.”

“Have you heard from Rory lately?” she asked Amy.

She nodded. “He’ll be coming to visit in a few days. His girlfriend wanted to come to London for a trip so Mrs. Hudson is letting them stay with us and we’re going to show them around. It’ll be nice to see him again. He seems pretty happy with everything, so that’s good.”

“Well, make sure you bring him by for dinner. It will be nice to see him.” She finished drying the last dish. “You can go ahead and go if you want. I’m rather tired right now so all I want to do is go to sleep.”

“Of course,” Amy said. She gave her aunt a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Amy left the kitchen, put on her jacket and grabbed her purse. “Love you, Aunt Sharon!” she called out.

“Love you too,” her aunt called out.

Amy grinned and let herself out. She left the flat and hailed a cab, giving the driver her address. It didn’t take long for her to get home, and when she got inside she saw Sherlock had returned. He was sitting at the table, thinking. She went up to him and kissed his cheek. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he said, looking up at her. “How was dinner with your aunt?”

“Very nice. We talked a lot. She knows you and I are sharing a room now, and seems supportive of things. She wants us to bring Rory and Jessica with us next week.”

“How did she find out?”

“You said our room when we were there last week,” she said with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you wanted to keep it quiet.”

“It’s all right. Have you eaten?”

He nodded. “I got some take-out.” He looked at her intently. “I just got off the phone with my mother. Something has come up for tomorrow, so she was wondering if she could meet you the day after Christmas.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “It will probably be nice to just spend Christmas evening at home with you.”

“It’s been a long while since I’ve looked forward to Christmas,” he said. “I’m actually looking forward to it this year.”

“That’s good,” she said with a smile. “I have a present for you. It’s tradition in my family that we open up one gift before Christmas.”

“I can get one of your presents for you, then,” he said, standing up. She grinned at him and went over to the tree in the corner of the room and pulled out a gift. He went to their room and she waited for him to come back. She handed him her gift and he handed her hers. She waited for him to open his gift first. It was a book on the history of pirates, and was an old first edition. “Who told you I liked pirates?” he said with a slight smile on his face.

“Your brother mentioned it offhandedly a few weeks ago,” she said with a smile. “I thought it was kind of cute you wanted to be a pirate when you were a kid.”

“They still fascinate me,” he said. He looked at her hands. “Open your gift.”

“All right.” She tore off the wrapping paper and saw it was a jewelry box. She opened the lid and gasped. Inside was a beautiful gold necklace with gold stones. “This is beautiful, Sherlock.”

“It’s gold and gold topaz,” he said. “I asked Mrs. Hudson’s advice on what to buy and she suggested some jewelry. I have other gifts, but this is the most extravagant.”

“Could you put it on me?” she asked, taking it out of the box. He nodded and she handed him the necklace before sweeping her hair to the side. He put the necklace around her neck and then clasped it, and she let her hair fall back down. “None of my boyfriends have given me jewelry before.”

“Then I’m glad to be the first,” he said. She turned to look at him, a wide smile on her face. “Since it’s still early, how do you want to spend the evening?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe we can watch a movie. I usually watch this one movie every Christmas, but it’s a chick flick.”

“I suppose I could stand one of those,” he said.

“All right,” she said with a grin. “Let me go get it.” She went to their room and pulled out the DVD and brought it back to the living room. “It’s called ‘Love Actually.’ It’s about a bunch of people here in London and the weeks before Christmas. Usually I watch it with my aunt but this year she wasn’t up to it.”

“So it’s a tradition?” he asked. She nodded. “Then let’s watch it.”

She grinned at him and took the DVD to the DVD player. She put it in, and the two of them sat on the sofa together. She grabbed the remote and pressed play. Normally when they attempted to watch a movie they ended up not paying attention to it and focusing on each other, but tonight they watched the movie all the way through. When it was over she looked at him. “So, what did you think?”

“It’s overly sentimental, but it could have been worse,” he said. “I did enjoy the subplot with the rock star. That was amusing.”

“I like the little boy’s story the best,” she said with a smile. “I just think it’s the cutest.” She leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s kind of nice to believe that love can be like that. When I was younger I used to want a boyfriend who would make a big public confession.”

“And now?” he asked.

“I’m happy with what I have,” she said with a smile. “I don’t need a splashy public confession.”

“You would probably never get that from me,” he said.

“Probably?”

“Something might happen that would cause me to lose my mind.” She chuckled at that, then pulled away. He let go of her and she looked at him. “I will tell you I love you when we’re alone, however.”

“Well, I’d shout it from the rooftops, but that’s just me,” she said. “Want to get some sleep now?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” he said with a nod. She got up and then gave him her hand and he stood as well. They went to their room and got ready for bed, then got into bed. He pulled her against him, and she shut her eyes. “Good night, Amy.”

“Good night, Sherlock,” she replied. She started to drift off to sleep, contented and excited for the next day. This was going to be a good Christmas, she could tell.


	14. Chapter 14

She woke up first. Their legs were tangled together just like they were every morning when they woke up, and she slowly untangled hers from his. She was on her side and she stared at him as he slept. This was her favorite part of the morning when she happened to wake up before he did, which wasn’t very often. He always looked so peaceful and serene when he slept. But she knew it wouldn’t be long until he woke up. She was going to enjoy it while she could. About ten minutes later his eyes fluttered open and he turned his head to look at her. “Good morning,” he said.

She gave him a smile. “Good morning,” she said before she leaned over and kissed him quickly. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” he replied, sitting up a little more and rolling onto his side. “What time is it?”

She looked over him at the clock on his nightstand. “A little after six in the morning.”

“You usually sleep later,” he said with a frown.

“Well, its Christmas,” she said with a grin. “I always get up early on Christmas. Have ever since I was a kid.”

“I doubt Mrs. Hudson is up this early,” he said. “So there’s no point in making breakfast.”

“Well,” she said. “I’m up, and you’re up, and we don’t have anything we have to do right now. How would you suggest we spend our time?” He grinned, and then moved so he was closer to her. She rolled back onto her back and he hovered over her slightly, and she laughed. “I should have thought of that.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t,” he said before moving in to kiss her. She reached up and framed his face in her hands as she kissed him back, and then slid one hand away from his face and down his neck to his shoulders. The kiss was soft and drawn out, and she smiled slightly beneath his lips. She ran her hand down his arm, then moved it away and went for the hem of his shirt. She pulled it up, and he moved away so she could pull it off of him before kissing her again. She tossed it to the side and ran her hand up and down his bare back, feeling the soft skin and sleek muscles there.

He retaliated by pulling away from the kiss, moving towards her neck. It had been cold the night before so she wasn’t in her usual camisole top, instead wearing a T-shirt and sleep pants. He nipped at her neck and then reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, pulling away only to get it over her head. She took the opportunity to use her body to roll him onto his back and she hovered over him. “I get to be in charge today,” she said with a slightly naughty smile.

“By all means,” he replied. She kissed him again, a deep kiss that he eagerly returned. He reached for the waistband but she pulled away and slapped his hands. He raised an eyebrow but moved his hands away. She covered him more and kissed him again, a deep kiss, and he moved his hands to her hair to keep her close. After a few moments she pulled away and began making her way lower, starting with his neck, nipping slightly as she went. She trailed her way down his chest and then to his flat stomach. 

When she got to the waistband of his pants she pulled away and grasped the top of his sleep pants. He lifted his hips up slightly and she carefully pulled both pants and underwear off and dropped them off the end of the bed, leaving him naked under the blankets. She moved her mouth over his erection, hovering for a moment, then licked it once. She could feel him shiver under her, and she retaliated by putting her mouth over him, moving up and down, and curling her tongue around him. She didn’t do this very often, but he did seem to enjoy it, and this morning was no exception. 

“Enough,” he said after a few moments, his voice throaty.

She pulled her head up. “Why?”

“Because I believe we both should be enjoying ourselves this morning.”

“I am enjoying myself,” she said with a grin.

“But I would much rather be actively participating today,” he said with a grin.

She grinned wider, gave him one last lick and then made her way back up to him. He rolled them over so he was on top, tangling them in the blankets slightly. He moved his hand to the waistband of her pants and she didn’t stop him this time. He pulled her pants off, leaving her in her panties. She raised an eyebrow at him but he just gave her a look, one she recognized as “be patient” and she waited. He moved down to her thigh and kissed the inside of it, working his way up. Then he pulled away and pulled her panties off before going back to her.

He slowly inserted one finger into her, then two, teasing her clit at the same time. Amy squirmed underneath him as the tension began to build. He liked to tease her a lot, she noticed, but he always came through in the end and it was _definitely_ worth the wait. He increased his speed until she began to breathe quickly, then he removed his fingers and positioned himself before thrusting into her once, hard and fast. She reached up and gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his back as he pulled out and thrust again deeply, filling her. She clung on as he increased the speed until she felt herself orgasm, and moments later he followed.

He lowered himself onto her more as he finished, both of them panting heavily. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck after a moment and then pulled out of her. He then rolled onto his side and pulled her close. “I believe that was much more fun,” he said.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” she said with a wide grin. “I’m thinking we should follow it up with a shower. Get nice and clean.”

“Together?” he asked, kissing her neck again.

“Always more fun that way,” she said, shivering slightly when he bit down. He tended to recover quickly from their lovemaking and he was certainly acting like he’d like a round two. She pulled away slightly and he let go of her, and then she pushed off the covers and got out of bed. She went to the door and grabbed her robe, slipping it on. He was behind her as she left the room, wearing his own dressing gown. They made their way to the bathroom, and Amy very quickly brushed her teeth as he got the shower ready. Then they got in together and before the water had gotten them really wet he was kissing her again. The kiss went on for a few moments before he pulled away and got under the spray of water. “You rather like kissing me after I brush my teeth,” she asked as she watched.

“I like the taste of mint on your lips,” he said, pulling her close again. Then he turned them so her hair was under the shower spray. “Want me to wash your hair for you?”

“That would be nice,” she replied with a smile. He pulled away from her and got her shampoo, which this month was lilac scented. He squeezed some out onto his hand and she turned around so the front of her was getting wet. He massaged the shampoo into her hair and worked it in with his fingers and she felt her knees go slightly weak. He started at the crown of her head and massaged her skull slightly before pulling away and working the shampoo into the rest of her hair. It took him a few minutes, and then he turned her around. She rinsed it out of her hair as he got her conditioner, and when she turned back around he repeated his actions. “You have no idea how much I like it when you do that,” she murmured.

“I have a fairly good idea,” he said with a slight chuckle as he finished. She turned around and rinsed her hair out, then stepped out of the water to kiss him deeply. He kissed her back eagerly and they stayed like that for a few minutes, ignoring the water. Finally he pulled away, breathing heavily. “We should probably continue getting clean.”

“Sounds good,” she said. She reached over for her loofah and body wash. “I’m half tempted to make you smell like a girl today.”

“No thank you,” he replied. “It might be interesting if you use my wash, however.”

She thought about it, and then nodded. “I do love the way you smell when you get out of the shower.” She put her body wash back and took the bottle he was handing her. She squirted some on the loofah and looked at him. “Who’s getting cleaned first?”

“You,” he said. She handed him the loofah and he began to wash her, taking extreme care to make sure she was soaped up from head to toe. When he was done she stepped back under the spray and washed all the soap off. Then she stepped back and took the loofah from him, soaping him down. He started to stir a bit as she played with him, and soon he was rinsing off, taking the loofah out of her hand and backing her up so she was against the wall, away from the spray. He kissed her, and she framed his face in her hands as she kissed him back. When he pulled away after a few moments he saw she had a smirk on her face. “I suppose you’re up for round two?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“With you? Always,” she said with a nod. She pulled him in for another kiss, a deep one that seemed to have no end. After a little while he braced moved his hands to her thighs and then a little higher, lifting her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around him and he positioned himself before thrusting into her. She clung onto him, leaning back against the wall and throwing her head back as much as she could. It was quick and wonderful, and when she neared orgasm he reached between them and toyed with her clit. She nearly screamed as she orgasmed but she kept a lid on it, kissing him and letting him swallow her scream. They stayed locked like that for a while and then slowly disentangled themselves before moving under the spray and cleaning themselves off.

With the shower finished they got out, using the towels they kept there and drying off. They kept stealing glances, but Amy knew that Mrs. Hudson was awake by now so round three would have to wait until later. They went back to their room and got dressed and then went out to the living room. Amy went into the kitchen and began to cook, and within ten minutes Mrs. Hudson had joined them. Amy kept up conversation as she cooked, and soon enough breakfast was served.

“What are your plans for the day?” Mrs. Hudson asked them as Amy joined them at the table, plate in hand.

“Exchange gifts with you, relax for a bit, and then go to my aunt’s for dinner with her and her boyfriend,” Amy said. “Then back home, probably. I don’t know what’s open on Christmas.”

“I thought you were going to your mother’s today,” Mrs. Hudson said to Sherlock.

“Something came up,” he replied. “We’re going tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m sorry for that,” she replied.

“I’m not. She’s going to a charity function with my brother,” he said with a slight smile. “She’s hoping she can get some people to help sponsor a project she’s fond of, and there will be people with money at this function. She knew I had other plans earlier in the day so when the opportunity came up she took it.”

“I didn’t know your mother was into social causes,” Amy said.

He nodded. “Since my father died and Mycroft and I moved out of the house she spends a lot of time on them. She’s part of the boards of three foundations, and works closely with at least two other charities. I’ve lost track.”

“Wow,” she replied, feeling slightly nervous now at the prospect of meeting her. What if she didn’t measure up?

Sherlock must have sensed something because he looked over at her. “Don’t worry about that. It’s a large part of who she is, but it isn’t everything. When she found out you were studying art she got very excited. She loves art, but neither Mycroft nor I are very into it, despite her best efforts. She paints in her spare time, and has always wanted to talk to someone about art. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“I hope,” she murmured.

“She’s a lovely woman, one of my oldest friends,” Mrs. Hudson said with a smile, reaching over to pat Amy’s hand. “She’ll love you as much as I do, Amy, no worries.”

“If you say so,” Amy said, and she gave both of them a smile. “I’ll try not to worry.”

“Well, as soon as we’re done eating I have presents for both of you,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Not many, but a few.”

“We have gifts for you too,” Sherlock said with a nod. “I suggest we exchange gifts here.”

“And we were just going to watch a movie afterwards. You’re more than welcome to join us,” Amy said. “I’ll even throw in a light lunch.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I’m finished, so I’ll go get my gifts. I put them in bags so I can carry them more easily.”

“Very smart idea,” Sherlock said. “I’m finished as well. We put our gifts under the tree already. Did you put Mrs. Hudson’s there as well, Amy?”

Amy nodded. “Except one. Let me finish and I’ll go grab it.” She wolfed down her food, and then went back to their room to get the stray gift. It was a framed sketch and she hadn’t wanted anything to happen to it so she’d kept it in the room instead of putting it under the tree. She went out to the living room and looked at the tree. There were a few gifts for Rory and Jessica under there for when they arrived, but most of the gifts there were for Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. To busy herself she gathered up the dishes from the table to put them in the sink. By the time she was done Mrs. Hudson had come back. “Open this one first,” she said, handing her the picture.

“As long as you open this first,” she said, handing Amy a wrapped package. Whatever was inside was soft.

“All right,” she said with a smile. Mrs. Hudson then handed Sherlock a package and the three of them opened them. Mrs. Hudson gasped when she saw the picture. “You like it?” Amy asked.

“It’s beautiful,” she replied. “Is that really me?”

She nodded. “Yes. My teacher gave me a top grade for that one.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

Amy pulled her present out of the wrapping. It was a yellow patchwork sundress. Amy grinned and then stood up, holding it against her. “I think this is going to be a perfect fit,” she said. “Is this why you asked for my measurements two months ago?”

Mrs. Hudson nodded. “Being cooped up and barely able to move left me a lot of time to sew. Most of your gifts are clothing, Amy. Handmade clothing.”

“Well, this is beautiful. I can’t wait till it gets warmer so I can wear it.” She went over to Mrs. Hudson and gave her a hug. “Thank you.” Then she looked at Sherlock. “What is your gift?”

“A first edition of a book on anatomy I was looking for,” he said. “This will come in handy.”

“Go on, open the rest of your gifts,” Mrs. Hudson said. She handed Amy one bag and Sherlock another, and Amy went to the tree and pulled out the rest of Mrs. Hudson’s gifts and handed them to her before opening her own gifts. There were two shirts, two camisole tops, a silky robe and three skirts plus a new set of charcoal sticks and a new sketchpad. She thanked Mrs. Hudson every time she opened a gift and gave her a hug after she’d opened the last one.

Then Sherlock began handing her his gifts, though he did tell her one was for her to open in private. He had also gotten her much needed art supplies, this time a set of watercolor paints and a smaller sketchpad for her to practice in. There were also two charms, an easel and the Tower of London, for the charm bracelet she always wore, a book of Van Gogh paintings, a plaid scarf that she had admired in a store down the street, a set of cast iron pans and a set of knives, both of which she appreciated because the pans she was using now were old and much smaller and the knives they had in the kitchen were dull.

Then she handed him his gifts, saving her favorite for last. He opened each book and thanked her for them, and then she handed him the final package. When he opened it up he had a look of surprise on his face. It was a new coat, dark grey with a dull grey lining, and a matching scarf. He looked at her and she motioned for him to put it on. He stood and put the coat on. It was a perfect fit. “Thank you,” he told her.

“Well, you totally trashed your last one,” she said, smiling at him. “Don’t do anything to this one.”

“I’ll treat it well,” he said with a nod.

“Well, I believe that’s all the gifts,” Mrs. Hudson said. “What movie were you planning on watching?”

“’Holiday Inn’ and the animated ‘How The Grinch Stole Christmas,’” Amy said with a grin. “Sherlock told me he’d never seen either of them before, and they’re both favorites of mine.”

“Then I am very glad to be joining you. Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby were so handsome in that movie,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Let me go get them and you two make yourselves comfortable. I’ll make some popcorn, too, if either of you want some.”

“That would be lovely, dear,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Let me go take your other present to the room so you can open it,” Sherlock said, grabbing a small bag. He and Amy went to their room and he handed her the bag. She opened it up and saw a black lace bra and matching lace panties, plus a garter belt and thigh high stockings. “It was suggested that you might like something like that,” he said.

“This is La Perla,” she said, her eyes wide. “I…I don’t think I’ve ever spent that much on undergarments before in my life.” She went over to him and kissed him softly. “Thank you. I’ll model it for you tonight.”

“I would like that,” he said with a grin. She grinned back and put the bag on the bed. “I am especially glad for the coat. It’s almost exactly like the last one, and I had been looking for one for months.”

“I know. I had to special order it from the manufacturer.” She put her arms around his neck and he settled his hands on her waist. “Promise me you’ll wear it tonight.”

“I will,” he said with a nod. She leaned in and kissed him again, a lingering kiss. “What was that for?” he asked softly when she was done.

“Because you’re a wonderful boyfriend,” she said with a smile. “Come on. We have movies to watch.” She let go of him and went to her DVDs, pulling out the two movies. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him along to the living room, where she popped in “Holiday Inn.” He settled onto the sofa as she went to go make popcorn, and when it was done she poured it into two bowls. She handed one bowl to Mrs. Hudson and took the other to the sofa for her and Sherlock to share. She settled in next to him and enjoyed the movie, and then changed them when it was over. By the time the movies were done they were hungry again and Amy made a light lunch for the three of them. Then Mrs. Hudson said her farewells and Amy and Sherlock got ready for the visit to her aunt’s.

They arrived at 2:38, a bit earlier than they’d planned, and her aunt’s boyfriend opened the door, a grin on his face. “Amy, Sherlock. You’re a bit early.”

“Figured I’d see if you need any help,” Amy said with a grin. “Plus I brought apple pie, just like Aunt Sharon requested. I didn’t bake it, but the place I got it from makes the most fabulous pies.”

“She’s resting right now,” Brian said as he moved aside to let them in. “And thank you for offering to help. I got a bit overwhelmed.”

“Think nothing of it,” Amy said. She and Sherlock took off their coats and scarves, and then Amy followed Brian into the kitchen and they got to work. A half hour later Aunt Sharon woke up, and she came out and entertained Sherlock. The two of them got along very well and Amy was glad for it. Soon enough dinner was ready and they all ate to their fill, and while they were eating dessert they exchanged gifts. Her aunt had gotten her more art supplies and a piece of art from an up and coming artist, and had gotten Sherlock a scarf and a book on unsolved mysteries in London. Brian had surprised Amy with a gift of stainless steel pots in many different sizes and a copy of his soon to be published cookbook and Sherlock with a book on forensic pathology. Amy was glad they’d bought him a gift and he thanked the both of them for their gift of a rare record from the Beatles.

They stayed until seven and then headed home. Amy put her new pots in the kitchen and then collapsed on the sofa next to Sherlock. He put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. “I believe this was probably one of the nicest Christmases I’ve had since childhood,” he said. “Certainly the best I’ve had in recent years.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I wasn’t sure how it was going to be with Aunt Sharon and me not being at home in Leadworth, but it turned out really well. The cookbook was a nice gift. He told me that all the foods he’s made for us when we’ve gone over for dinner are in there, so now I get to see if I can make them as well as Brian does.”

“I hadn’t expected gifts from either of them. I’m glad I thought to buy your aunt something, and that I chipped in for that record.”

“Yeah, they seemed to love our gifts,” she said with a smile. “Speaking of gifts, I still have to model my favorite gift.” She moved away from him. “Come to the bedroom in twenty minutes, all right?”

“All right,” he said with a nod. She got up and went to the room, and as soon as she shut the door she began stripping down. Once she was naked she put on the new bra and panties. She had a little trouble with the garter belt but finally got it and the stockings to look right. She had just finished when the door opened and Sherlock came in. His eyes were wide as he looked at her. “You look stunning,” he said after a moment.

She grinned. “I’m going to wear this under the dress I’m wearing New Year’s Eve.”

“Then I will very much enjoy getting you out of that dress when we get home,” he said. He moved over towards her. “I should buy you more lingerie.”

“I would enjoy it,” she said as he came up to her. “I have some nice stuff, but nothing as nice as this.”

He put his hands on her waist. “Well, since I know you like this, I was torn between this black set and the red one.”

“Ooh, red. I’d have liked red,” she said as she put her arms around his neck.

“Then I may get that for you yet,” he said quietly. “But first I’d like to get this set off of you.”

“Go ahead,” she said before he leaned in and kissed her. They kissed for a few moments before he reached around her to undo the bra. She moved her arms from around his neck and stepped back slightly so that the bra fell to the floor. He used his body to move her to the edge of the bed and then pulled away from the kiss to lower her onto it. When she was lying down he hovered over her and kissed her neck before slowly making her way down to her breasts. He gave each side his undivided attention for a few moments as she brought her hands up and tangled her fingers in his hair. Then he made his way lower. 

When he got to her navel he reached for her panties. She lifted her hips up slightly and he pulled them off. Instead of moving back up to kiss her he moved lower, and she shut her eyes and waited. It wasn’t often he did this, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Then his tongue was inside her and she nearly came right there. He put his hands on her hips to keep her still as his tongue teased her because she began to squirm. It felt really good, but soon she realized she’d much rather he be enjoying himself to. But before she could tell him he let his fingers join his tongue and she came hard and fast. 

When she was done shuddering he pulled away from her and quickly stripped out of his own clothes. Then he was on top of her and she pulled him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. He positioned himself and thrust into her, and she clung to him like her life depended on it. He took his time however, moving slowly, letting her build back up for another earth-shattering orgasm, and when she came this time he followed close behind. She kissed him softly as soon as she had caught her breath, and they stayed like that for a few moments before he pulled out of her and got them towels to clean up.

When they were clean they got into the bed, and even though it was early the two of them laid next to each other, facing each other. “Do you sometimes wonder if it’s always going to be like this?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she said. “But I think it will. Even if we get married and have kids, there’s still going to be a spark there.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said, bringing her palm to his lips. He kissed it, and when he was done he looked at her intently. “Do you think about marriage?”

“When I was a little girl I used to dream about my wedding,” she said. “I wanted it to be big and fancy, and I wanted a white dress and lots of flowers. When I got older, though, I stopped. I stopped dreaming I’d get married. But sometimes I dream of it now. Maybe it isn’t so big, but I’m still in the white dress, and I’m happy.” She reached over and touched his face. “Do you think about it?”

“Sometimes. Even I know it’s too soon, but…sometimes I think about it.”

“We’ve done everything else to our own schedule. If we ever got married we’d probably do that before everyone else thought it was time, too.”

“Would you marry me?” he asked.

She nodded. “I would. Not now, but in the future. Would you marry me?”

“Yes,” he said. “But you’re right. It’s too soon, now.”

“Maybe this could be a pre-engagement thing, then,” she said with a smile. “When you know it’s the right time, you know I’ll marry you. You won’t have to worry about me saying no.”

“Then it’s a promise?” he asked, moving closer.

She tangled her legs in his. “It’s a promise. But what happens if I ask you first?”

He grinned at her, and put an arm around her waist before pulling her close to him. “If you ask me first, I promise I’ll say yes.”

“Good,” she said, her smile widening. “Let’s seal it with a kiss.”

“A very good idea,” he murmured before leaning in and kissing her softly. They kissed for some time, and then he pulled away from her. They shifted positions slightly as he held her close, and then turned the conversation to other topics until she began to fall asleep. The last words she heard that night was him whispering “I love you,” and she knew then that this would be the best Christmas she’d ever had.


	15. Chapter 15

Boxing Day dawned with a not so gentle snow falling to the ground. As nervous as Amy was about meeting Sherlock’s mother, by noon she was wondering if they’d be able to even get to her. It had been a long while since a snowstorm of this magnitude had hit London, the news was saying, and she was worried they might be stuck at their flat the whole day and into the night. Sherlock seemed to notice it as well, and he had been on the phone with his mother off and on throughout the day. Finally at three they decided to head out early, before it got any worse, and if it came down to it he and Amy could stay the night there. Thinking ahead, she and Sherlock brought sleepwear and a change of clothes in case that happened.

It felt like it took forever to get to his old home, which was on the outskirts of London. The snow continued to fall heavily, and it seemed as though the cab they shared traveled at a crawl. She wanted to get there faster and get the initial meeting over with, but she knew if they went any faster there was the good possibility of an accident. Finally they made it, and a man came out to greet them. The snow was falling so thickly that it took a moment for her to realize it was Mycroft standing there helping her get out.

“Thought you’d have gone home by now,” Sherlock said to him as he got out after Amy.

“Mummy asked me to stay last night because the benefit didn’t end until nearly one in the morning, and I slept in today. By the time I awoke it was decided it would be best if I didn’t travel. I’m rather surprised the two of you decided to brave this god awful weather.”

“Mum would have been disappointed if we didn’t,” Sherlock said.

“That is true,” Mycroft conceded. After Sherlock was out Mycroft stuck his head into the cab and offered the driver the opportunity to come in and get some coffee or cocoa to warm up, and the driver shut off his cab and got out. “I’ll show him to the kitchen. Mummy is in the sitting room, painting.”

Sherlock reached over for Amy’s hand and grasped it as they went up the steps to the door. He opened it and they stomped their feet on the mat before stepping inside. Amy had expected a grand home that felt rather closed and cold, but this place was warm and welcoming. There were paintings lining the front entrance, and as Sherlock took off his new coat she stepped closer to examine one of them. She felt him come behind her and with his help she shrugged out of her coat, still examining the painting. “This is beautiful.”

“It’s either one of my mother’s or some other unknown artist,” Sherlock said. “I can never tell which are which anymore.”

“It’s signed V.H.,” Amy said.

“Then it’s my mother’s. V.H. is short for Violet Holmes,” he said. He came up next to her. “This one must be new. I don’t remember it.”

“It’s about three weeks old, and it’s because you don’t visit often enough,” a woman with a warm voice said from down the hall. Violet Holmes came down to them and enveloped her youngest son in a hug. “I should feel bad that you spend more time with your girlfriend’s family than your own, but then I remember you have a girlfriend now and that makes me happy enough.”

Sherlock hugged her back, albeit a bit awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she said as she pulled away, a warm smile on her face. Then she turned to Amy. “You must be Amy.”

“Hello,” Amy said with a slightly shy smile.

“Neither you or Mycroft have a poetic bone in your bodies, Sherlock. Amy is much more lovely than either of you let on,” she said to Sherlock, causing him to smile slightly and Amy to blush. Violet offered her hand and Amy shook it. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, dear. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s all right. My aunt said I didn’t do Sherlock justice when I told her about him, so I guess it goes both ways,” she replied, her smile widening.

“Well, come in away from the door and get warm! Everyone into the kitchen. Mycroft made coffee for himself but there are other warm things to drink as well.” She looked over and saw Mycroft enter with the cab driver, and smiled at them. “You two as well.” Then she turned and went back down the hall.

Sherlock grasped Amy’s hand as they followed her. “I think she likes you,” he said quietly.

“She hasn’t even talked to me yet. There’s still the chance I’ll screw everything up,” she whispered back.

He squeezed her hand. “You’ll be fine. I have faith in you.”

They made their way into the kitchen and Sherlock began helping his mother by pulling down mugs. “Thank you, Sherlock,” she said with a smile. “So! What does everyone want to drink? I believe I have coffee, cocoa and there might be some spiced cider left, though it’s non-alcoholic.”

“Coffee,” the cab driver said.

“Coffee,” Mycroft and Sherlock chorused.

“Spiced cider,” Amy said.

“I’m in the mood for the same,” Violet said to Amy as she went to the refrigerator. She pointed to the coffee maker to her left. “The coffee is over there, gentlemen. Feel free to serve yourselves. How do you take your coffee?” she asked the cab driver.

“Sugar and cream,” he said.

“Mycroft, would you please get out the sugar for our guest? I’ll get the cream,” she said as she opened the refrigerator. She pulled out a covered pitcher and a small container. She set the pitcher on the counter and then took the small container to the coffee. “There’s also chocolate biscuits and almond biscotti if you’d like some,” she said to everyone in the room.

“Do you want me to pour the cider into the mugs for you and Amy?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, thank you, dear,” she replied.

Sherlock came over to the pitcher carrying two mugs and poured the contents of the pitcher into them. Then he took the mugs to the microwave and put them inside, setting the timer and turning it on. Two minutes later he took it out and handed one mug to Amy. She took a sip. It wasn’t hot, but was rather warm, and it tasted very good. She watched as he took the other mug over to his mother. “Here you go,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied. She looked over at Amy. “Why don’t you and I leave the men here and go sit down and talk? I’m very excited to get to know you.” Amy nodded, and she went to a cupboard, pulled down a plate, then got some of the biscuits she had offered and put them on the plate. “Follow me, dear.”

She left the kitchen and Amy followed, glancing at the walls as they walked. “How much of the art is yours?” she asked.

“About half,” Violet replied. “I tend not to like all of the things I create, but other people like them so I give them away. Sometimes my paintings are auctioned off for charity, so I only keep my absolute favorites.” They went into a room with comfortable looking chairs and a nice fire going on in the fireplace. Amy saw an easel in the corner with a chair in front of it. “I’ve spent the day painting the view outside the window. Quite a bit of white. Perhaps too much for my taste.”

“I think it’s nice,” she said before sitting down in the seat next to her.

“If I finish it tonight perhaps you can take it home with you,” she replied. “I know quite a bit about you from both Mycroft and Sherlock. Does Mycroft really pay you to spy on his brother?”

Amy nodded. “Yes. We use part of it to pay our rent.”

“Mycroft always did have a strange way of dealing with his brother,” she said with a smile. “At least the money goes to something worthwhile. When Sherlock told me the two of you had begun to share a room I will admit I was surprised your relationship was so serious. But I suppose that the way he is. He never does anything halfway.”

“My aunt was surprised, too,” Amy said before taking a sip of her cider. “Mostly because I’m younger than he is. But she’s supportive.”

“That’s good,” she said. “I would like to meet her some time, I think. She raised you by herself?”

Amy nodded. “I don’t have memories of my parents. All I remember is Aunt Sharon and Leadworth.”

Violet was quiet for a moment. “Sherlock mentioned the house in Leadworth, and that is was going up for sale because your aunt was sick. He had rather liked it there.”

“I liked it there too, though I’ll admit I like London more.” Amy started to sip more of her drink

“I tried to buy it, but someone else beat me to it,” she said. Amy nearly choked on her drink and Violet looked concerned. “I’m sorry I startled you.”

“No, I’m just…surprised,” she said. “Why on earth would you want my old house?”

“I had lived in Leadworth until I was sixteen,” she said with a smile. “I was known as Violet Lewis then.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “The original wild child of Leadworth? That was _you_?”

Violet chuckled. “It’s good to know my reputation stayed long after I left. But yes, that was me.”

“Did you _really_ flirt with Mr. Shawlley in front of his girlfriend every day for a month and then turn him down flat when he finally asked you out?” Amy asked, leaning in towards her.

“I did. He was such a nasty piece of work, thinking he could paw every girl in the vicinity. He did it to my friend Louise, who was timid and wouldn’t stand up for herself. So I humiliated him in front of everyone.”

“He grew into a lecherous man,” Amy said, shaking her head. “Bitter, too. Always talked about how us ‘young things’ should wear less clothing in the summer. He married that girlfriend you flirted in front of, you know.”

“He did? I hope they’re miserable together.”

“Oh, they are. They had a decent enough son named Colin. We always thought he was secretly adopted.”

“Does he look like either of them?”

“More like his mum than his dad.”

“Perhaps Jeannine was still continuing her affair with John Florence,” Violet said.

“Really?” Amy said, her eyes wide. “Now that I think about it, he’s got startling blue eyes and dark black hair like Mr. Florence had.”

“I shouldn’t really gossip about them,” Violet said. “There might not be any truth to it.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun to speculate,” Amy said with a grin.

“It is, isn’t it?” Violet replied with a chuckle. “You said original wild child. Who is the new one?”

“You’re looking at one of them,” Amy said with a grin. “Overactive imagination as a young girl, bit of a flirt as a teenager. Between me and Mels we used to terrorize the entire town. I grew out of it by my last year there, but I think Mels is going to be that way until she dies.”

“That’s wonderful. That town always needs _someone_ shaking it up,” she said. “Tell me more about what it’s been like since you moved there.”

Amy began to talk, recounting stories, and Violet shared more of her own. The next time either of them glanced at a clock three hours had passed. They moved their conversation to the kitchen, surprising the Holmes boys, who had been sitting there in near silence when they arrived as they nibbled on biscuits, and the two of them began to prepare dinner. It was nice being in the kitchen with someone else who liked to cook, and the two women even managed to bring Mycroft and Sherlock into the conversation, despite their attempts to avoid it. By the time dinner was ready to be served Amy felt she’d passed any tests Violet might have had with flying colors.

They ate, continuing the conversation, and afterwards they looked out the window. It was still snowing, though not nearly as heavy as it had earlier, and it was decided that everyone would stay the night there and depart in the morning if the weather cleared up. Then Violet told Sherlock to take Amy on a tour of the home while she tried to finish the painting so Amy could take it home. “I see you and my mother get along splendidly,” he said as they made their way down the hall.

“I like her a lot,” Amy said with a wide grin. “She’s really interesting and funny.”

“I’m glad you think so.” They stopped outside of a room. “This is my childhood room, where we will be spending the night.”

“I definitely want to spend some time here learning more about you and what makes you tick,” she said.

He opened the door and motioned for her to go in. She did, and then he turned on the light. She looked around. “It does look very you,” she said before going to the bookcase and fingering some of the books. She saw an old copy of Treasure Island and pulled it down. Unlike most of the books, it looked worn and well loved. “Read this book a lot?” she asked as he came up behind her.

He looked down. “My father used to read me a chapter a night when I was young. When we’d finish the book we’d turn around and start over again the next night. We did that for over a year.”

“And you never got tired of it?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“I’ve only read this book once. I liked Peter Pan more when it came to pirates. Can’t beat Captain Hook.”

He smiled slightly. “I suppose so.”

“We should take this book home with us,” she said. “Maybe I can read you some of it sometimes.”

He was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “All right.”

She gave him a grin and kissed his cheek quickly before moving to another part of his room, book still clutched in her arms. He stood and watched her, answering questions as she asked. Finally she put the book on the nightstand and then went back to him. “I’m glad we came today,” she said, taking his hand in hers.

“I am too,” he said, putting his other hand on her waist. After a moment she let go of his hand and put her arms around his neck. “Did you learn more about me?”

“Oh, loads,” she said with a smile. “Is there more of the house you want to show me?”

“Perhaps later,” he said, bringing his other hand to her waist and pulling her closer to him. “I’d like to do something else first.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Kiss you,” he said. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, and she deepened it slightly as she melted against him. They stayed like that for a few moments until they needed to breathe. “I’ll show you the rest of the house now,” he said quietly.

“If it’s all the same, I’d like to stay here a little while longer,” she replied before kissing him again. It was nearly twenty minutes later when they finally left the room for the rest of the tour, holding each others hand. After the tour they went back to see his mother, who had finished the painting. “Oh, that’s lovely,” Amy said with a smile as she looked at it.

“Then I definitely want you to have it,” Violet replied with a nod.

“I have just the place to put it, too,” she replied.

“Next time you come you should bring some of your art.”

Amy nodded. “Normally I bring my sketchbook nearly everywhere, but I didn’t bring it today. I’ll bring it next time I come over.”

“Very good,” she said with a nod. Then she yawned slightly. “I must be more tired than I thought. I think I’ll retire for the night now.” She moved over to Sherlock and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek, then came over to Amy and surprised her with a hug as well, one she returned easily. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Sherlock replied, nearly in chorus with Amy’s reply. After his mother left he turned to Amy. “Would you like to call it a night as well?”

“I’m not really tired. Maybe I can start reading to you tonight.”

“All right,” he said. They made their way back to his room, changed into their nightclothes and climbed into his bed. Amy picked up the book from the nightstand and opened it. She began to read, and after a little while she turned to see Sherlock sleeping, a peaceful expression on his face. With a smile she leaned over and kissed his forehead lightly, then put the book back on the nightstand and turned off the lamp there, snuggling closer to him and shutting her own eyes, waiting patiently for sleep to overtake her as well.


End file.
